Protector of Narnia
by AsakuraX
Summary: *REVISED* When Telmar sacked Narnia, all hope was lost. Prince Caspian gathers the rebel army, but that won't be enough to subdue his tyrannous uncle. Lucky for Caspian, he has the Pevensies, and a mysterious young man to help him...Susan/OC later Ed/OC
1. Prologue

**A/N: I know, I know, some of you are probably scratching your head. Didn't he do this already? Why is he rewriting it? Well, one of my esteemed fellow writers approached me a couple of weeks ago about the story. There were things that could be done differently. And everytime I read it, I realized that she was very right. The story was solid, but there was something more that I was looking for. In addition, I want to fix some things I've written that may not make sense or connect points that didn't connect the first time around. **

**And this time, I'm not alone. My fellow writer has agreed to "beta" this for me, but I feel that her help is so much more: so I've dubbed her my co-author. She will share the credit of this story with me (unless she absolutely declines, I don't intend to let her). So, I want to thank and introduce my co-author: AnnCann.**

* * *

Throughout Narnia, a legend was told about the reappearance of the ancient kings and queens to restore the throne to its rightful heir, and to free the Narnians from total captivity. The ancient tale spoke of a courageous young man who brought about a stunning victory in a fierce battle, against impossible odds. The Narnian stars foretold it, and the centaurs prophesied of the emergence: of a great hope, of the return of their ancient rulers, of a new king, and a great protector of Narnia.

It all began with the birth of an extraordinary child. There remained few human families hidden in Narnia (most had been exterminated or ran away), thirteen hundred years after the Golden Age. The remnants of Narnia rarely met, and were dispersed in an attempt to hide and survive. But on this occasion Trumpkin the dwarf, a family of centaurs, and Trufflehunter the badger were present when a woman bore her husband the child of prophecy – a son.

* * *

"What do you think is happening in there?" Trumpkin asked Trufflehunter while playing with his bright red beard nervously.

"Well," Trufflehunter started sarcastically, "Maybe she's having a baby!"

"But they've been in there for some time. And _he_ looks a good deal worried," he whispered while pointing to the husband.

As Trufflehunter peeked behind himself, he could clearly see that the man was pacing back and forth in the moonlight. Although the night was exceedingly dark, they could easily see the sweat glistening intently off his brow. The head of the centaurs glanced at the man, then at the night sky above him. He sighed softly, then trotted over to the man. He grasped the man's hand, and proceeded to talk to him. The man nodded his head, then the centaur went into the tent. Trufflehunter and Trumpkin looked on in silence, until the centaur walked back out of the tent and motioned to usher the man into the tent. The dwarf and badger followed the man in and watched as he knelt next to his wife, who held their suckling son close to her.

"My wife and I thank you, Glenstorm," the man said with heartfelt gratitude. "You have helped with the birth of my son. How can we ever thank you?"

The centaur stamped his hind feet self-consciously as he spoke. "You do not owe us. Your son will stem the evil in Narnia when it is time. I have foreseen his fate in the stars. I have two things to say regarding him, and we shall leave you."

The man knelt by his wife with their son in his arms. Trufflehunter and Trumpkin moved closer in order to hear what the wise centaur had to say. Glenstorm took the boy in his hands and held him up.

"This boy, though he is a Son of Adam and of noble Narnian blood, will not be King over Narnia. The stars do not shine as such. However, he will brinh about our return from captivity."

With that, Glenstorm returned the boy to his mother's arms and rode off with his family. Stopping in his tracks one last time, he looked back and told them, "We will keep watch over you, the last of the nobles of Narnia. This, my family swears to you."

As he left, Trufflehunter walked over to the couple and their child. "Well, my friends, what have you decided on naming him?"

His mother looked up at the badger as Trumpkin made his way over. "His name is Shawn. He will bear the name of his great-grandfather, who led the final defense of Narnia against Telmar. He bravely led the charge and fought to the last man."

"And as Glenstorm said," Trufflehunter started again. "We too will watch over him, but we intend to be closer. We would be honored to teach him the things he will need to survive. Right, Trumpkin?" Trumpkin agreed, to which the mother gave him the baby. Her husband helped her up and into the home he had built next to the tent. Trumpkin looked at the boy in his arms, sleeping. _This is the hope of our world? Aslan bless him. He's so tiny, so helpless. I sure hope he can do it._

* * *

The boy grew in strength, and courage, by the time he reached the hale age of twelve, his father, Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, and Glenstorm had taught him how to: read and write, shoot arrows, and sword fight. Recently, Glenstorm had brought a satyr to tutor Shawn, and the boy picked up on the training quickly. Once, his father had taught him to ride a horse, but they couldn't keep the horse and so his skills were rusty. During starry nights, Glenstorm and Trufflehunter would take him out into a meadow where his centaurs would rest and tell him stories of the stars and of Narnia, including the Golden Age that the High King ruled in. The boy often spoke intelligently, and the badger and centaur were amazed.

"When do you plan on telling the boy?" Trumpkin quietly asked the boy's father one day. "He deserves to know."

"When the time is right. His mother and I have both agreed to wait until he was older."

Trumpkin nodded, although he didn't completely agree and turned to look at the family. The motley group was invited to stay for dinner. Glenstorm felt it was time for him to go back to his own family, and it wasn't until both the boy and his mother begged that he oblige them and stay to eat. They ate outside and talked about the days before, what it would've been like to be free Narnians.

But Shawn's happiness was short-lived. In the midst of his telling of the hunt for the White Stag, a Telemarine company had spied the small contingent. People nearby had seen smoke from the area and had heard voices, but no one could ever find the people living there. And now, under orders of the Lord Protector Miraz they were to raze the countryside and leave nothing alive.

"Halt, in the name of Miraz, Lord Protector of Narnia under rule of Telmar!" the captain screamed. His dark brown hair hung loosely and wildly about him and his face was a picture of cruelty and rage. He holstered his crossbow and held up his hand, signaling his troops to take aim. "Surrender and your lives will be spared."

Dubiously, Shawn's father looked at his son, knowing his own time had come. Surrender resulted in the slaughter of the defenseless, and word had reached him that the Telemarines took no prisoners. He slowly bent down; kissing both his son and wife, then grabbed the sword lying by his feet. He drew it from his scabbard.

"Never will we the last nobles of the true Narnia, ever surrender to Telmar!" With great resolve in the face of certain death, he then turned to Glenstorm. "Take my son and get him out of here! He is more important than I am! I will hold them off. Go!"

Glenstorm immediately swept up Shawn, who was scared and shouted that he would never leave his parents behind. His mother kissed him before she grabbed a bow and notched an arrow to stand her ground against the Telemarines. Realizing the fate that was about to befall them, Shawn struggled and cried in vain, Glenstorm calmed him.

"It is more important that you survive. I love you, my son. Be safe; I will miss you so," his mother whispered to him, as the captain lowered his arm for the men to start firing.

Realizing that both his mother and father were resigned to die so he could live, valiantly Shawn held back his tears and stifled a sob. Yelling back desperately as Glenstorm pulled him from his mother's last embrace, "I love you, mother. I will never forget you."

And with that, Glenstorm carried the last hope of Narnia off. Trumpkin trailed behind them, covering their escape with a rain of arrows, stopping the Telemarine soldiers from following them too quickly. Shawn's convulsive cries grew fainter and fainter until they were out of earshot.

The escape of any Narnian was infuriating to the captain, who raised his voice in command over the turmoil, "Seize them! Do not allow them to escape!" His face reddened with anger as he fought with a savagery and a fury that had terrified many a Telemarine.

By this time, Shawn's father had been hit, and he fell with a piercing cry. The Telemarines decided to advance with their swords to finish him. They sent two men on horseback to follow the centaur in hopes of capturing him and the boy. Rising from his own pool of blood, Shawn's father fought expending his last ounce of strength. Adrenaline took over and he fought with a fury and a desperation propelled by the deep love he bore for his son. Trying to guarantee Glenstorm enough time for a safe escape, he fought to the death, taking down as many soldiers as he could. A sharp excruciating jolt of pain shot through his stomach, and he realized he had been stabbed through from behind. With a cry of triumph and maniacal glee, the captain gloated over the man as he crumpled to the ground in agony cradling his stomach.

The mother wailed with a tortured cry as her husband fell, but her voice was stopped short by a sharp chiseling blade in her stomach. Brave to the last, she fell next to her husband, who whispered to her softly, "I have always loved you, my dear."

The last sounds that either of them heard was his wife muttering softly as she coughed blood, "I love you, too. Now, Narnia is left to our son, the last hope of Narnia."

The captain watched awestruck as the couple died courageously without complaint, fear or hatred. He would have sworn, and cursed as he died. But, he was a man without a conscience – a man determined to advance in position, and cruelty had hardened him. Being a daily witness of such horrors, he remained unmoved and unrepentant. The Narnians were getting their just desserts, and he was Telmar's ordained avenger.

In his arrogance, he did not recognize the precious life that had escaped his ruthless grasp was a serious threat to his nation and to his own life, and with the ancient kings and queens of Narnia, and Caspian X – this boy that he assumed was nothing – would return to take back the throne for Aslan and would be a force to be reckoned with...


	2. The Return and Missed Opportunities

_**A/N: Well, this is it. We've completely started over. We're going back from the beginning and keeping some key items, but the story will be largely reworked. Hope you all enjoy! **_

_**Chapter 1 The Return and Missed Opportunities By AsakuraX and AnnCann**_

_It's been a long time since I've been in Narnia,_ Shawn thought as he quietly crossed Archenland's border to enter his homeland. At seventeen years of age, Shawn had seen a decent portion of the known world, from Calormen and Telmar to the Lone Islands, all due to his job: bounty hunting. Glenstorm had rescued him from sharing the fate of his parents and took the boy to Archenland nearly five years ago. Now, after bidding the King of Archenland goodbye, Glenstorm had come with Shawn to the edge of the wood, near some ruins across the river, close to the sea. Why Glenstorm had brought him back into the land of Narnia, the land where his parents were murdered, Shawn did not know. He merely shuddered at the recollection and trudged along in silence.

The chestnut centaur stood silently as the boy glanced over what had been his home. Though Shawn had other reasons for being here, Glenstorm knew it was time. Shawn must be returned to his home to fulfill his purpose and to learn the ways of the real Narnians. He must find his way among them, and discover his destiny like many great men before him...

Pensive and quiet, Shawn said very little as they crossed the border to his long awaited homeland. Glenstorm would have expected elation, but not this. Shawn's subdued manner disturbed him and he could clearly see something was stewing in the young man's heart. This had happened many times before during their short reunion, after Shawn's parents' tragic and unexpected death, and Glenstorm knew all the tell-tale signs: the protracted sigh, the furrowed brow, and the far-away look. Glenstorm wanted to take away the sorrowful memories and spare the young man, but Shawn's mind was on something completely different. His brief encounter in Archenland with a noble had been very unnerving, and Shawn couldn't pinpoint why – something about the noble was unsettling and totally demoralized him.

With an arrogant flourish Lord Remian bowed and displayed all the proper manners at court in Archenland, and although Shawn had met many haughty men before, this man topped them all. It was unhinging to be in his presence, completely disturbing, and Remian had hardly said anything to Shawn. Why did he hold such a sway over him – such power – such a hold? Appearing to be the typical proud noble, Remian didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Shawn puzzled over his introduction to Lord Remian and wondered why the man bothered him so much.

Glenstorm interrupted his thoughts with a gentle nudge. "Are you alright Shawn?"

"Who is this Lord Remian?" Shawn asked, trying to keep his voice level.

A dark cloud seemed to pass over Glenstorm's face, and the centaur sighed as he stamped his hind hooves. "Just another noble, one of many..."

"There is something about that man – something terrible. I don't like him."

"I don't like him either," said Glenstorm, a little too hastily, "too officious."

They traveled for a while in silence and had just arrived at the ruins of Cair Paravel, seat of the four thrones when Glenstorm spoke. "Why are you going to help the Telmarines? They are our enemy, your enemy! It makes no sense! They--,"

"I know what they did!" Shawn bit back angrily then regretted snapping at his oldest friend and mentor. "But I don't have a choice." Shawn sighed deeply as he pulled his sword and bow from his back and laid them to the rocky ground of the ruins.

"Even so, I have always felt your abilities could be put to good use serving Narnia, not her enemies," Glenstorm explained, warily.

Meeting Glenstorm's steadfast gaze, Shawn had long since resigned himself to the life of a bounty hunter. "Glenstorm, a man's got to make a living. This is no different for me than any other bounty. You know that! Why are you being so touchy?"

Glenstorm sighed heavily. "You are too young to understand."Giving him a sharp look, Glenstorm responded, "I have no choice but to leave you here near the ruins of Cair Paravel."

"Why must you leave me?"asked Shawn sadly. He was losing the only family he had left.

"I am sorry to have to bring you this news, Son of Adam." Glenstorm dropped a pack in front of Shawn. "I must go no further. Where you are headed is dangerous place for any Narnian creature. Here is some food; it should last you a while. I will not pretend to understand the ways of the Great Lion, but I am certain that coming to the ancient ruins of the castle Cair Paravel will lead you closer to your destiny. In the name of Aslan, I commend your purpose into His hands, and you will not fail. You will find your place in his sovereign plan. May Aslan watch you wherever your feet take you."

With tears in his eyes, Shawn thanked Glenstorm for being a second father to him, and hugged the embarrassed centaur. After saying their farewells, Glenstorm threw an arm across his chest, then turned and galloped off.

Accustomed to traveling all over the world by himself, Shawn was not frightened or dismayed with the idea of being alone. He recalled with great lucidity his history and set to work making himself a make-shift shelter. As he sat in his tent eating a light meal, Shawn's ear picked up a sound and he swore he had heard the sound of a horn in the distance and a faint roar following up, but Shawn was far too trenched in his thoughts of his past as well as the matter at hand, so he ignored the curious noise.

_When he left Narnia under the protection of Glenstorm, he became a shepherd in Archenland, but that life was not for him. He ran from Archenland at fourteen, deciding to do something useful in the world. He became a bounty hunter when he arrived in Calormen, an accomplished archer, and was known as one of the best sword fighters in the realm, even rival to the High King of Narnia. Whenever he was called on a bounty, Shawn wouldn't kill anyone…unless it was required that the bounty be dead. He was well-known for bringing in his bounties well-fed, clean, and safe, and was considered one of the best bounty hunters around and one of the most trusted men to deal with._

_When he wasn't on a bounty, girls from all over would come in the hopes that he would court them. From as far as Telmar to the Lone Islands, the rich and the poor, the noble and freeman (or woman in this case), would come. Shawn, however, only wanted to court and marry for love, not nobility or money. He would, however, entertain the company that came with the stories that Glenstorm and Trufflehunter told him and would see if he loved any of them, or if they had real intentions. And in all of this, he began to forget about his homeland, his own past, truly becoming just another wanderer. _

After his last bounty returning a kidnapped duchess to Archenland, he returned to his place to find a letter written with the Telemarine seal on it. _A Telemarine nobleman needs me to come…as soon as possible? Well, this Lord Protector Miraz must be desperate. He is stationed in…Narnia?_

As the full moon began to rise in the sky, Shawn lounged in his tent, and swiftly fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The following morning, he quickly ate and dismantled his tent. He thought longingly over all that he had done in Narnia – all of his training with Trumpkin, and the knowledge he gained from the faithful badger and the wise centaur. His momentary reverie was interrupted by the sound of a skirmish nearby. Determined to mind his own business and get his job done as soon as possible, Shawn refused to investigate and thought to himself, "_I guess I'll go see who Miraz wants me to find..."_

Shawn turned to the Western Wood, the bright sun and Eastern Sea behind him, put his pack on his back and headed for the Telmarine castle.

* * *

Edmund knelt in the dewy, Narnian grass with a raggedy cloth he had ripped from the sleeve of an old training shirt of his during the Golden Age. He laid his twin blades next to him and set to polishing his weapons while his siblings talked.

"There's a reason that Aslan called us here," Peter thought aloud, sliding his shield from his back and rubbing at his shield with another cloth.

"Obviously," Edmund intoned, sarcastically.

"What we need to do is try to find out what happened here," Peter said, taking command as usual. Gesturing to the ruins of their beloved home, he said, "We have to find someone to tell us what happened here. Then we need to find out why we've been called here."

"Great job, Peter. Like we didn't figure that out already," responded Edmund with a smug grin. Peter gave him a dirty look and their two sisters laughed.

After some time, the Pevensies sat in pure silence among the cracked ruins of their home. Lucy stood up and walked to the cliff side, gazing out over her dominion given to her by Aslan: the Eastern Sea. She had always heard that Aslan came to them from the east, so she sent her prayer towards the east, to His country.

_Aslan, please help us. Give us a sign, tell us what to do. Send us somebody to tell us what happened to our home, to tell us why we are here._

Almost immediately after her silent prayer went up, Edmund's ears perked up to a sound. Nearly half a beat later, Susan shot up from the grass wildly. She glanced at Edmund, who nodded to the silent question.

"I heard it too," Peter whispered, straining to hear another sound. Lucy looked back at them all quietly to figure out what they were talking about. They all kept silent, trying to make out what the sound had been. After a moment, Susan spoke up.

"I know that sound!" she said. "I can't believe I didn't know it earlier. It's the sound of arrows being fired." She looked down from the crumbling ruined wall of the Cair, into the forest below. "Someone in that forest is fighting."

Peter took one glance at Edmund, who simply nodded before taking off down into the forest at whoever was fighting. Peter and Edmund knelt in the wooded area, far behind the dwarf.

"Here we go again," said Peter with a slight smile. "There's never a dull moment, is there?"

"Do you think they have any food in those packs?" Edmund inquired: his stomach had been growling mercilessly since their arrival in Narnia.

"Most likely," answered his brother. "Let's go raid those guys."

"And since they are attacking a Narnian subject, I have no qualms against killing them."

Peter grinned at his brother. "I bet I'll beat down more of them than you."

"It doesn't matter, Peter. I am going to take down the ones with the largest amounts of food."

"And knowing you, you will eat every bite too, Ed. Save a soldier or two for me. The girls and I have to eat too."

"You'll just have to be faster than me Peter, I'm starving." Edmund's stomach was roaring as loud as the Great Lion. Peter held back a laugh while he watched the Just King plead with his stomach to keep quiet.

* * *

Trumpkin panted heavily as he tried to hide behind a nearby tree. He bitterly wished that the trees would wake up like they did in the Golden Age, that they would wake up and save him from the Telemarines that were chasing him now. He sighed deeply, but quietly, hoping not to give away his position to his assailants. In one thick, pudgy hand he held a worn wooden bow and with his other he nervously played with his beard, so much more a dulled red than the bright fire-red it was almost twenty years ago. _Stress does that to you,_ he thought. _Stress...and regrets._ He wiped the sweat from his weathered face with a ragged sleeve when he heard the cries of the Telmarine soldiers. He took a deep breath, praying that if he had to die, that he would _not_ die in vain and that he had given Prince Caspian enough time to escape. He quietly knocked an arrow into his bow, remembering fondly risking his life for another human boy so many years ago.

Trumpkin jumped from behind his tree, letting loose his arrow before diving behind another tree. He didn't look to see if he had hit anyone with his arrow, only knocking another arrow for his second shot and pushing himself into the heat of battle.

The Red Dwarf kept his cool, firing off arrow after arrow, felling Telemarines left and right. The soldiers were closing in on him, but there were definitely fewer than before. Trumpkin grinned lightly, thinking that he just might live through this one after all, so his surprise was etched on his face when he heard footsteps in the undergrowth behind him. Thinking the Telemarines had finally surrounded him, he let an arrow fly, only to have it glance cleanly off of a shield emblazoned with a deep red blur. A second look at the "Telemarines" and he realized that they were two mere boys… that were armed! He couldn't let two boys fight battle-hardened Telmarines!

He was about to jump up and draw his sword to draw the soldiers attention when the older boy, a blonde shouted to him, "Get down!" Trumpkin immediately ducked as the two boys charged up the hill the dwarf had been using as a shield – brandishing their swords – vaulting from the top onto the mobbing Telmarines.

Edmund landed lightly beside his brother, rolling into a stand, and continuing his run into the enemy soldiers. All he and Peter had seen was a lone dwarf fighting off a squad of humans, and that was enough for them, to spur them on to attack in defense of their Narnian subject. The brothers crossed the forest floor, dodging arrows and ducking back into the foliage. Edmund listened to the _whizz _of arrows rushing by and he noticed a pattern – a rhythm in the flight of the arrows. Upon looking toward his older brother, he rushed out from behind the bushes. He silently counted off five beats before swinging his blade to cut down arrow after arrow. In the midst of his swings, he could see Peter running to get in front of him to shield them both. He grinned, thinking about how Peter could get a little overprotective of his siblings, even though they could take care of themselves. Before taking the initiative that Peter had bought him, Edmund looked to the hills – glad to see his sisters close by – preparing to take the soldiers attention off of their brothers with a rain of arrows.

When the brothers heard the familiar twang of Susan's bow, Edmund sidestepped, spinning around Peter's shield and using his momentum to swing out with power, knocking a soldier off his feet. He took to one knee, sweeping another soldier with the flat of his sword as his brother stepped off of his back and leaped into the air, raining blows onto his unsuspecting adversary. Trying to keep his ground, the soldier tripped over a fallen comrade and fell into Peter's blade.

"Got one, I call his food," yelled Peter, over the din.

"Oh don't be so pleased with yourself Peter, I've already got two." As Edmund said that, his blades crashed into two more soldiers and he grinned at his brother.

Immediately Peter and Edmund were back to back, planning their defense against the four soldiers that surrounded him. "How are we doing?" asked Peter with a grin, pulling his shield in front of him for a more defensive position.

Glancing at his brother, Edmund stifled a laugh. "Peter, can't you tell? Same as usual..."

"That bad, huh?" Peter chuckled. "We didn't think this out as well as we could."

"I've got an excuse Peter, I'm hungry. No one thinks well when they're hungry." Edmund said dryly, twirling his swords to block a blow from two soldiers. "What's your excuse?"

"We need a plan, Ed!" Peter said gruffly, ignoring his brother and deflecting a blast from a particularly aggressive soldier, probably the captain. "How about the Eagle Sweep?"

"Not enough space Peter. How about the Lion's Roar?"

"Far too flashy," Peter retorted.

"Who cares about flashy, Pete?! We are in a bit of a jam here, and lunch awaits us." Edmund gripped his sword nervously as the captain gave the command for the soldiers to attack the boys. All of a sudden, three soldiers fell simultaneously.

Edmund looked frantically around and saw the dwarf holding his bow up as Peter looked and saw his sisters on the hill, both holding up bows. "Blast!" declared Edmund, and he swore to himself. "I wanted those packs all for myself."

"Can't do that Ed. Your sisters have to eat too," Peter said, running his shield hand through Edmund's scraggly, black hair.

While Peter went to subdue the captain, Edmund appeared annoyed: he hadn't been in a fight like that in a year, and his body hadn't gotten used to the usual adrenaline rush that came with fighting, and his stomach was growling fiercely. Every victory in battle has its rewards – sheathing his swords, he walked over to the wary dwarf, extending his hand in thanks.

"I had it sorted," the dwarf growled at him. "I didn't need to be saved, especially by a couple of kids."

"So you're telling me that an unarmored dwarf surrounded by troops of enemies, who are bearing down on him, didn't need any help at all?" Edmund asked.

"Exactly," the hardy, muddy dwarf replied. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be going to show this Telmarine what it means to hunt one of us."

"Telmarine!" Edmund exclaimed. "Since when have Telmarines been here in Narnia? Where is General Oreius? Where are the Lords? Surely someone stood up against them!"

The dwarf looked bitterly over his shoulder. "I don't know where you've been for the last thirteen hundred years, but the Narnia you're talking about has long since died."

"You'll definitely need to tell us more about this chain of events," declared Edmund as he searched through a Telmarine's pack, happily pulling some food from the sack. The food was pretty disgusting and he made a face. "Oh well," he said with sigh, as he helped himself. "I'm too hungry to be picky today."

His sisters laughed, and Peter joined them, having tied down the captain after knocking him unconscious – now, at least, they would have someone to interrogate...


	3. The Just King's Test & A Hunter's Bounty

**A/N: Yup, I'm moving a lot smoother than usual and glad about it. Hopefully I can keep it up. And I wanted to make this straight early: the ages of all the characters. Remian is still 23 and both Peter and Shawn are 17. Susan and Caspian are 16. Edmund and his OC are both 14, and Lucy's at the tender age of 11. **

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* * *

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**Chapter 3: The Just King's Test and the Hunter's Bounty**

Edmund leaned against one of the ruined walls and stabbed his twin blades in the dirt, disgusted with the blood that encased them. The scraggly cloth he'd pulled from his old clothes was good for polishing, but the blood would merely smear if he tried to use it on his swords now. He glanced up at a small shuffling sound and noticed Peter standing in front of him, offering a thick, deep navy cloth in front to Edmund – while he held another dark red cloth in his hands. "I figured you might need it. Aslan and Orieus never let us forget that we always needed to clean our swords."

Edmund nodded silently – taking the cloth from Peter's hand and watching his brother sit in the grass – looking towards the east and cleaning his sword rigorously with the cloth. His eye fell to the glint of Rhindon and Peter's unnamed shield and he looked back to his dirty swords and grinned. He fondly remembered the day that Father Christmas had returned to Narnia and brought Edmund his gift: the one withheld from him until the day he was ready.

While Edmund was daydreaming and cleaning his twin swords, Susan and Lucy catered to their guest. Susan looked him over carefully, checking for any scrapes or any damages from the Telmarines he had been fighting off. As she bound one of his small scrapes (one insignificant enough that they wouldn't need to use the cordial for), she felt a shadow develop over her. She turned and smiled lightly; it was Peter.

Peter motioned that he wanted to have a talk with Susan. "Lucy," she said quietly – so not to interrupt the dwarf, who had been complaining and bemoaning his predicament and that he'd "spilled enough blood on Narnian soil for Sons of Adam," – "Take over here, will you?" Lucy nodded and took the wrapping out of her hand and tried to console the grumpy dwarf.

When Peter walked with her out of earshot of the dwarf and their siblings, he turned to her. "Has the dwarf said anything useful yet?"

Susan shook her head. "He's been going on about helping Sons of Adam and grumbling and whatnot. The only thing he's said that tells us anything is that our Narnia's been gone for a long time. And he muttered something cursing the Telmarines."

"So that's who they were," Peter thought aloud. He wanted desperately to know what exactly went wrong, so he could help his homeland. He was the High King; it was his duty to Aslan and to his people to save them. He knew that his siblings felt the same way. After all, Aslan told them all that once a King or Queen here, you could never go back. Now all they had to do was convince the dwarf that these little kids were the Kings and Queens of the Golden Age._ Easier said than done…_

Peter followed his sister back to the little area that he and Edmund had set up for them to stay in until they moved on. He looked around at his siblings, who all nodded to him as if to say that he got first dibs on trying to talk to the dwarf. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders and moved to talk to the dwarf. "Greetings Dwarf," he started with one of his most regal tones, which didn't sit as well with his younger voice.

The dwarf glanced up at him from the bandages that Susan and Lucy had put on him with a sneer on his face. "And just who are you, boy?"

Peter – due to his past years as a king – duly ignored the condescending tone from the dwarf. "I think a better question is who you are, dwarf." The dwarf stood up, facing Peter with fire in his eyes. "Weren't you taught to obey your elders, youngling?"

"Weren't you taught to speak properly to the High King of Narnia?" Edmund interrupted, now sick of the dwarf's attitude. Peter grinned a little to himself. Now he could appeal to the dwarf with his brother cutting up everything that the dwarf threw at the two. _Just like playing good cop, bad cop._

"The High King of Narnia? This whelp? I am hardly pressed to believe you," spat the Red Dwarf. "Our Kings and Queens of old are hardly children."

"How can we prove it to you, Dwarf?" Peter interjected.

"Pete, he won't believe us no matter what proof we bring him," Edmund said, feigning exasperation. "We could've left him to the Telmarines; he's not proving any help to our cause."

Now the dwarf was mad! "Hey now!" the dwarf called in a gruff voice. "I didn't ask for your help in the first place, boy! You rushed out of nowhere, trying to play hero."

"And the only thing you did to thank us was try to shoot my brother." Edmund bit back, drawing the dwarf out. "If it wasn't for his shield, you surely would've killed him. And then I'd have had to take your life in vengeance and honor of my brother."

The dwarf scoffed at the boy's claim. "You couldn't take me. You hardly took the Telmarines, and the ones you got you got because you were lucky. You can't take one of us true Narnians. The girls had to save your hide from the hills."

Edmund grinned; he had the dwarf right where he wanted him. "You wanna bet?"

That was enough. The dwarf couldn't take this little snot-nosed boy talking anymore. He turned and drew his sword from its scabbard and swung violently at Edmund. The boy retaliated without missing a step, as if he knew that the dwarf was going to attack him. He pulled both his swords and swung both skillfully. His first blade cleanly deflected the dwarf's attack and his second battered his sword until the dwarf's grip slipped and one last well placed strike sent his sword flying out of his hands. After a dramatic– and showy– flourish, the dwarf fell back in the dust and asked, "Who are you?"

Edmund merely sheathed both his weapons and said, "King Edmund. The Just."

* * *

And so, there he was...He gazed out at the rolling hills and the luscious trees and he felt a sharp pang tug at him. He couldn't remember everything from that day, but he remembered his parents sacrificing themselves for him and a subtle turn of the Telemarine captain's voice that had murdered his parents. Deep inside, he brooded on his hatred for that man, but decided that, at least for now, he would bury that hatred within himself.

The next day he traveled quickly on foot, and he arrived at the castle of the Telemarines. Wasting no time at all, he headed for the palace gates, where he was stopped by two royal guards.

"Halt!" the two men called. "State your name and business here!" one guard demanded, as Shawn approached. Shawn looked at the man expectantly and sighed within himself.

_Apparently, Lord Miraz doesn't tell the lesser troops all of his business after all. Wise thing._ "I am Shawn. Lord Protector Miraz has sent for me with a written invitation to see him. I believe it is of the utmost importance."

The guards looked at one another, their eyes dancing with mocking laughter, although they said nothing. "You look awfully young to have warranted the Lord Protector's attention. I trust you to have brought your summons with you?"

Trying not to roll his eyes, Shawn produced the letter with the Telemarine seal still attached. They took it from him and looked at it and their amusement changed to disbelief. After a minute, they returned it to him and allowed him to pass.

Surveying the halls and courtyards as he passed through, Shawn noticed the Telemarine symbol hung on banners and flags, all colored in dark blue and black hues. Every time he saw a Telemarine soldier, they were stock-still and somber. Shawn wondered about it, but cast those thoughts behind him as he approached what could be nothing less than the throne room. Ornately decorated compared to the rest of the doors and banners, the throne room doors bespoke of power and grandeur. From the guards' appearances, they were elite soldiers. Shawn was accustomed to being in the company of great men as a bounty hunter and he was not intimidated by men of great power and wealth. However, something about the Telmarines seemed to get under his skin, and he felt the hair on his arms standing on end.

Not knowing what else to do, Shawn approached them and bowed slightly. "Is Lord Protector Miraz of Telmar available for an audience?" he asked, feeling strangely nervous.

"No," a guard said shortly, carefully eying the blade that swung freely from Shawn's belt. "Session has just ended, but he's still in there with his general and two more lords."

At this, Shawn produced his summons. "I was called personally by Lord Protector Miraz. May I go in and see him?"

"Very well," the guard said warily. Shawn bowed once again as the guards opened the huge doors and they creaked from their great weight. The bounty hunter tossed aside his cape and stepped into the throne room.

* * *

"And what are you going to do about the dwarf, that Narnian beast?" Lord Sopespian asked Lord Miraz, angrily. When Lord Miraz had brought the dwarf in, the company of lords' greatest fear was realized. The Narnians existence was no longer questioned in the council chambers. Surely, another battle would ensue when the Narnians returned.

"Never mind the beast," Miraz replied, rolling his eyes as his general shifted slightly where he stood. Sopespian never did see what was most important at the time. "I have General Glozzelle's men taking the horrid thing to the ruins, where they are to dispose of it." At this, Sopespian seemed pacified and content. _I intend to use that to keep the Narnians in fear of us,_ Miraz thought bitterly.

"The real question now is," Lord Remian broke in. "What are we going to do about Prince Caspian the Tenth? The people are starting to wonder what happened to him."

_At least Lord Syrian picked an intelligent man to replace him when he died,_ Miraz thought to himself. "Good question, Lord Remian. For which I have an equally good answer." As he said this, the throne room doors opened up. A guard announced, "Entering the presence of our lords and requesting an audience with the Lord Protector is Shawn, the bounty hunter. Shall he be received?"

"He shall," Miraz replied, with a wave of his hand and an air of command to the guard. "This is the answer to your question, Lord Remian." As a figure approached, Miraz gestured at him. The figure came to the throne and bowed and they could see that it was a young man, armed with a sword and no older than seventeen.

"This is it?" Sopespian inquired, his voice growing in volume. "You entrust the future of this kingdom to a mere boy? This is pure madness, and I--,"

"Silence!" General Glozzelle interrupted. "Lord Protector Miraz has made his choices for his own reasons!"

"I thank you, General Glozzelle," Miraz said calmly, still looking at the bounty hunter at his feet. "Your defense of me is greatly appreciated, and you are right. I trust this boy greatly. Even though he's a young man, he is well-known throughout the land as an archer, a swordsman, and a bounty hunter. His skills are renowned, and he is highly capable of doing what is required."

"I thank you for your praises, Lord Protector Miraz," Shawn said humbly, still bowed on one knee. "What am I to do you for, my lordship?"

Fixing his piercing brown eyes on Shawn, Miraz bid him rise with a wave of his hand. When Shawn stood, Miraz let down his guard, showing his true concerned and worried state of mind. "My nephew, Prince Caspian the Tenth, disappeared about a week ago. He is heir to the Telemarine throne, and you are to bring him back. I will pay you well for it, and I will pay extra for the heads of his captors." _And I plan to kill them all..._

"Very well," Shawn said confidently, as he turned to leave.

"I wish to test his skill," Remian whispered to Lord Miraz. Shawn's self assurance annoyed him and he wanted to humiliate him.

"Do what you intend," Miraz replied, a cunning smile played on his face.

Lord Remian grabbed an apple and threw it at the young bounty hunter. Suddenly, Shawn stopped and turned, with his blade drawn. Like it was child's play, Shawn carved the apple cleanly in half. Fluidly, he placed his sword back in his scabbard without missing a beat, and turned again to leave. As he turned to leave, his eye met Lord Remian's and Shawn's hair stood on end – something about the man unnerved him deeply. Without wavering, Shawn strode coolly from the throne room, while the lords watched him in muted amazement.


	4. Regrets and Resolutions

_**Chapter 4: Regrets and Resolutions**_

Caspian the Tenth sat alone amidst the camps of Narnians –allowing his eyes to wander around him, surveying the campfires dotting the forest surrounding him. His gaze finally fixed to the fire before him, dancing and weaving its flames into the night sky. Despite his close proximity to the fire, Caspian was cold. The wariness that came when the Narnians first found and threatened to kill him, as well as the excitement of meeting such a large group of Narnians surviving within the depths of the forest had long since worn off. He sighed deeply as he contemplated himself; he was a true orphan now. His uncle Miraz ruthlessly betrayed him, even tried to murder him. And there was definitely no doubt whatsoever that the man was preparing to, if not already usurped his throne. The young prince looked from the fire to his hands; they were unceremoniously trembling. He was upset…no, more than upset. He was enraged. If it took his entire life and all his might, he swore against his father, Caspian the Ninth, that he would end his uncle and his tyranny and take it all back from him.

Once he had settled that, he thought about the Narnians surrounding him now. He had made a promise to them as well. They wanted their country back; that was for certain. He knew their history: about the High King and his siblings and the Golden Age –he knew the story of how they disappeared. He also knew that his ancestors had come through and massacred the leaderless Narnians, forcing the remnant to run and hide in the deepest parts of the forest, far from the Telemarines. They all just wanted their homes back, their freedom. He wanted to give it back to them. It had been personal at first; it was just Miraz and Caspian. Now he had thrown his lot in with the Narnians: he bound himself to them. He would share their fate.

Sorrowfully, his mind turned to what would no doubt be the first and would definitely not be the last martyr for the Narnian freedom: Trumpkin the Red Dwarf. Trumpkin had been the first to find him, the one to defend him from his uncle's troops when he'd run away some weeks ago. Trumpkin had quickly become his best friend; he knew he could rely on him for anything. He sighed bitterly. That was probably the reason Trumpkin was missing now.

Caspian had only been out there for a week when more troops fell upon him. At that time he'd only had Trumpkin, two Wildcats, another dwarf and a large Talking Mouse named Reepicheep with him. When it had been perfectly clear that they would not win, Trumpkin had forced him to run away with the rest of them, leaving Trumpkin, Reepicheep and one Wildcat to fight alone. The Wildcat had forced him to flee and he did so unwillingly. Fleeing the field of battle, he had run into a large group of Narnians. He was quickly accepted when the Narnians knew he was an outcast and they had waited for Trumpkin and the others to come back. That had been yesterday.

The moon had long since risen into the clear night sky above them. Caspian knew that the Narnians were eventually going to start looking to him for guidance once they were used to him and he wouldn't be of any good to them without clearing his mind and resting. Pulling his blanket tight around his shoulders, Caspian laid down, facing away from the fire. Try as he might, he couldn't sleep a wink. The glare from the campfire behind him cast a glow in front of him; in the brush nearby there was small movement. At first Caspian thought nothing of it; he merely assumed that some wild rodent was rustling around in the forest. When it happened again, Caspian grew wary. His professor had told him stories of the evil Narnians, the werewolves and the hags and ankle-biters and evil spirits and even though the Narnians he was with swore that High King Peter had wiped them out centuries ago, he still couldn't help but let his imagination run with him. Silently, he shrugged off his blanket and reached cautiously for his sword, moving slowly so that he wouldn't startle whatever was there until after he'd impaled it.

He stood over the rustling grass, ready to swing his sword into whatever lay down there when a Wildcat jumped out from the brush with a small brown lump attached to its back. When the lump began to move on the Wildcat's back, Caspian began to scream in surprise. At least, he screamed until the lump leaped toward him and stifled the noise from Caspian's mouth with its small hands. As Caspian looked up he saw the glint of the fire shining from the lump's ear; he knew it was Reepicheep, who religiously wore a gold circlet over one ear.

"Your Majesty!" he beseeched. "If you would please, be quiet! Most of us are still sleeping!" When he was sure that Caspian would be quiet he removed his tiny hands from Caspian's mouth.

"What's the news, my friend?" Caspian implored Reepicheep, looking behind him to see if Trumpkin was behind him.

Reepicheep blanched and grabbed hold of his tail, something he only did when he was nervous. The Wildcat limped to Caspian, placing his head into his lap. "Sire," he began slowly. "We were forced to leave. The Telemarines outnumbered us; we couldn't hold them back." At this Caspian's head drooped to his hands. "We got separated. Trumpkin led most of the Telemarines off, away from the path you had taken, but when we noticed that he was gone, we couldn't follow him." Reepicheep dropped his head sadly. "I've run the entire distance here to relay this news to you, Sire."

The Wildcat jumped up from Caspian's side and growled at the Talking Mouse. If the bragging Mouse had run the entire distance, he would've never made it. His legs had been too short and stubby –not fit at all for such a long and arduous journey, although the prideful Mouse would never admit to such a thing. "Your Majesty, if you please," the Wildcat hissed painfully.

Caspian turned his attention to the wincing Wildcat at his sides, noticing blood speckling his furry coat. "What has happened to you, dear friend?"

"I've been carrying that _brute_ the entire way," the Wildcat growled at Reepicheep.

The Talking Mouse was indignant. "Brute? I am far from it. I am a professed Knight of the Order of the Lion, a Knight of Narnia."

"Knight, indeed!" the Wildcat scoffed. "If anyone should be rewarded, it should be me! If it hadn't been for me, you probably wouldn't have made it out alive." The Wildcat turned its head to face Caspian squarely. "This Mouse sunk his little claws into my back the entire way; he's been scratching me since we left. And that horrendous sword of his! It's been jabbing me in the side all day. It took everything in me not to scream and yowl and let the whole Telemarine army know where we were!" The Wildcat paused to lick his throbbing wounds.

This was too much for the proud Talking Mouse to bear; he was tired of being offended by other Talking Animals. "I will not suffer your insults before our Royal Person, our soon-to-be King of Narnia." Pulling his blade from its sheath, Reepicheep readied himself to fight in the name of defending his honor against this Wildcat. "_En guarde, _villainous feline!" Reepicheep proclaimed.

Despite his scratches from the long journey, the irritated Wildcat leapt back to center the obnoxious Talking Rat in his sights. Fiercely, Reepicheep brandished his sword over his head and brought it to guard with a flourish. Almost immediately the Wildcat swatted the Talking Mouse's sword out of his tiny hands and into the brush they had come out of. "I have had enough of you, _Sir Mouse,_" the Wildcat hissed angrily. "You will _not _be impaling anyone tonight."

Caspian wisely thought it time to intercede; kneeling between the quarrelling Narnians, he began to speak. "Honorable gentlemen I implore you, please stop fighting! Now is a time to rest; tomorrow they shall surely have us on the move."

Immediately Reepicheep turned to Caspian, bowing deeply to the soon-to-be king. "Of course, My Liege. I bid you a good night sire." He turned to the brush and retrieved his sword and went off to check on his own charges.

Caspian glanced back at the Wildcat, who had laid itself down and proceeded to lick its wounds. "Honor…" the Wildcat scoffed. "His honor…What about me? Am I to suffer for that indignant Rat's honor?"

Caspian gently patted the Wildcat's head. "What is your name, dear friend?"

The Wildcat's sharp green eyes peered at the young prince. "Merimba, if it pleases Your Majesty."

"Please, Merimba. Call me Caspian. I am not King of anything yet. And I will not walk around as if I am King until I have set everything right, until I have taken back what has been stolen from me." Caspian's eyes held a fiery glint as he spoke. "And only when I have given the Narnians back the land given to them will I reclaim the throne and protect them all. But until then, I am merely Caspian." Caspian opened his arms and, after staring warily, Merimba allowed Caspian to carry him to the healers' tent, where Caspian worked diligently to bind Merimba's wounds.


	5. The Challenges

**A/N: It's been a little bit of time, but I've been wrestling around with some stuff, but I couldn't leave this behind. I want to let you all know about the Western Wood's Narnian Writer's Contest (I may have messed up the name, my co-author AnnCann knows it exactly) coming up. You guys should read the stories up for the competition. Also wanna thank Ann for helping with some of the comedy.

* * *

**

Shawn strolled quietly within the shadows of the courtyard and the Telemarine castle, trying to appear as if he was wandering aimlessly. In all truthfulness, he had a valid reason for sneaking out of his room into the cold, revitalizing air. Shawn involuntarily shivered; he had had another nightmare. Nightmares were usually normal for him; they always had been. Ever since he'd first escaped from Narnia, he would have nightmares about his parents, being forced to relive their murder over and over; however, that had been the extent of his dreams and he would only be a little shaken by them. Now that he had returned home and was staying with the Telemarines, the nightmares were much more vivid; almost too real for him.

* * *

_In his nightmares now, the Telemarines were ruthlessly hunting him down after having massacred his parents. As his feet splashed in the growing pool of his parents' blood when he ran away, the soldiers methodically razed the forest, cutting down any Narnian they could find and burn any tree that stood in their path. They would carry the remains and pile them up in the middle of the towns. Looking on from where he was, Shawn could see his adversaries mercilessly burn his friends, his allies. He would see the shadow of the wild, sadistic captain responsible for his parents' death seeking him and he would run away, ashamed and scared.

* * *

_

Shawn shivered unconsciously against the cold breeze biting through his pitch-black tunic. He shoved his hands into his sleeves and tried to huddle up as best he could to keep warm and to keep out of sight. He kept to the shadows, hoping not to draw any attention. Unfortunately, his plan was not successful at all.

Approaching him from the shadows was a figure similarly dressed in a black tunic and cloak pulled up to deter figure's stance and movement made it easy for Shawn to surmise that he was a discreetly noted that his stalker was searching for the bounty hunter, but wanted to make it to appear that he was merely wandering around. Shawn knew better than that; as soon as he made his way around a corner, he silently drew his weapon. He held his blade up and like clock-work the man following him walked into it and was held back at blade point.

"Who are you?" Shawn whispered quietly yet fiercely, so as to not draw any attention to them at all.

"Merely a servant, Sire. My Master has sent me to find you," the man rattled off quickly, very afraid of the weapon pressed precariously against his jugular vein.

"I have nothing to do with your masters," Shawn retorted, lessening the pressure of his sword against the man's skin.

"My master merely wants to speak to you. You have impressed him greatly and he has expressed his sincere wish to have you come and see him."

Shawn looked at the servant expectantly, now completely removing the blade from his throat but being slow to sheathe his weapon. Shawn motioned to the man and spoke softly, "Then take me to him."

Clutching his throat, the man bowed respectfully to Shawn; he was glad to be alive. The man turned on his heel, briskly leading Shawn to his master.

* * *

_The next part of his dream was even more unsettling and frightened the bounty hunter even more. Among a flame-encased castle, Shawn saw four Humans: two boys and two girls. No matter how many times he had these nightmares, he couldn't place the children in his dreams, and he didn't know where they came from. The only thing that he could tell was that the older boy had a red smear over his battered, silver shield and that they worked tirelessly to protect what was left of the Narnians. Soon enough, they were joined by another Human –a Telemarine traitor at that –and he worked to help them. No matter how hard he tried, Shawn could never make it to those children and stand with them. His every attempt failed miserably; it was as if something mystical held him back from his impulse to stand with the children. He saw the Telemarine fall first, impaled with three lances to the heart. The younger girl with dirty blond hair would scream and he__ could not__ hear her voice among the cries of the slain and enslaved. The younger boy with two swords and pitch black hair would slay the three who killed the Telemarine and then sacrifice his own life to protect the older boy from a Telemarine bolt. The blond boy would be the next to scream aloud as the younger girl __appeared__ to drop something in the mouth of their fallen comrade_.

* * *

Trumpkin stalked silently behind the children, still chafing at the methodical and embarrassing defeat he suffered at the hands of the dark-haired boy _–Edmund,_ the dwarf told himself. _That boy said his name was Edmund. _Whoever he was –whether he was really King Edmund the Just or just another boy –he could fight, that was for sure. And if that's what the younger boy could do, then what could the boy who proclaimed himself to be High King Peter do with a sword? The girls had already proven their mark; their marksmanship was extremely accurate, matching that of the legendary Valiant and Gentle Queens. As it was, he was glad that he could rest and relax for once with these people at his back.

He felt something poking him repeatedly in his arm. He jumped in surprise and looked. It was just the little girl trying to get his attention. "Are you okay?" she asked him warily.

He nodded his head. "I'm fine little one," he replied even though she was at least half a foot taller than him. She looked at him as if she didn't believe him; as if she could see through him, see his most private, intimate thoughts. Then the moment passed and she looked like a regular little girl again. She shrugged her shoulders and began to skip back up to the front with her siblings. He wondered what was going on. He hoped that Caspian was fine, that they were all safe and working together to stop the Telemarines. He hoped –

Trumpkin broke from his reverie, at the call of his name. He looked around and saw the blond boy and the dark haired one standing on either side of him. "We have some questions to ask you Trumpkin," Peter said gently, as if he were trying to keep the red dwarf calm and not startle him. Edmund's face no longer held the joy he felt when fighting Trumpkin, but instead an unreadable face that appeared to be normal for him.

"What do you want?" Trumpkin asked. A rude glance from Edmund caused him to mutter 'Your Majesty,' at the end of that statement.

Peter put a hand on Trumpkin's shoulder. "You do not have to call me that. Just Peter will suffice." When Trumpkin nodded his understanding, Peter continued. "What do you know about the troops that the Narnians have?"

Trumpkin looked at them both. "We have considerable numbers," he said carefully.

"We need to know everything you know so we can help –Caspian, was it? –bolster his defenses and regain Narnia for the Narnians," Edmund said, his voice not holding any hint of spite or sarcasm in it.

Trumpkin sighed; he might as well tell them because they were the only help he had right now. "We have a number of infantry in our midst, mostly Fauns and satyrs and the like. The dwarves have been working hard and making weapons at our hideouts. We have some centaurs, mostly of the clan of Glenstorm and we have some Minotaurs. Right now, they are our commanders. We have acquired some Cats that are able to fight alongside us as well as some Talking Horses from the Western Wild."

"You seem to be well armed," Peter allowed. "Though I believe we will be considerably outnumbered."

Full of dread,Trumpkin echoed the High King, bewildered,"Outnumbered...Sire! Right now we don't have any plans for our defense. That's why I hope that the Telemarines haven't found our last bastion of defense in Narnia and destroyed it." He let his head fall into his hands, cradling it in sorrow.

"Well," Edmund broke in, thumping Trumpkin on the shoulder. "That's why you called for us. Get us to Caspian and we'll devise a clever plan."

Although the two boys seemed capable enough, Trumpkin still had his reservations. They were talented with a sword, but were they the ancient kings like they said they were? Peter and Edmund were determined not to convince the dubious dwarf. Once he saw them in battle, that would quash any disbelief.

Edmund lightly elbowed Peter to get his attention. "Remember the Battle of Beaversdam, the time we sent the gryphons back for another round of boulders, Peter?"

"What a disaster!" exclaimed his brother with a chuckle. "Well, we aren't doing that again."

"Most definitely not!" Edmund echoed his brother. The young kings snickered at their past as Trumpkin gazed at them anxiously.

Peter wiped tears from laughing from his eyes and noticed the confusion etched on Trumpkin's face. "Oh," explained Peter to the dwarf, "there was a dramatic collision."The two boys broke into another series of guffaws. "No one was hurt that time. But there was an awful racket," he admitted.

"And a few misplaced gryphons, along with a few clawed up cats..." Edmund piped in.

"Why is that...Sire?" inquired the dwarf dismayed.

"The gryphons were flying around a bend to get more boulders to drop on the enemy, and the cats were coming around the corner to break up the Calormenes."

"It was a striking collision course, one for the records," added Edmund making a crashing sound with additional sound effects, mimicking a squawking bird and a hissing, irritated tiger beautifully.

Trumpkin's eyes widened with shock. Was this their idea of how to defend Narnia? Caspian was in deep trouble! Deep...deep...trouble...

"Most definitely the most exciting crash in that entire skirmish," confirmed Peter, with a mischievous grin.

This just egged Edmund on. "I do miss days like that."

"Never a dull moment when we get together Ed."

Trumpkin put his hands on his head and shook it in confusion. What kind of experience in battle was this?

"Peter, do you recall the time when our signals got crossed and the giants attacked before the Minotaurs could roll their flaming boulders on the enemy."

Peter put his hand on his head. "Pure ingenuity saved the day."

"Ingen-, what?" asked Trumpkin looking more and more concerned. Not more! Oh no! What kind of leaders were they anyway? Trumpkin was getting agitated. Maybe Caspian shouldn't have called after all.

"It was pure genius Peter, I must commend you."

"No, I must commend you Ed."

Trumpkin scratched his head feverishly. "What happened?"

"The Minotaurs dropped their fireballs at the top of a hill and rolled them down on the enemy. I ordered the giants to travel around and come at the enemy from behind. The fire balls hit our enemy first rather than our own creatures."

"A logistical nightmare," added Edmund with a grin.

"Why is that?" asked the dwarf.

"It began to rain."

"So what?" Trumpkin asked.

"The fireballs were extinguished."

"It would have been brilliant, if it had worked," Peter said, shaking out his blond hair.

"Note the key word 'if', Peter," Edmund replied dryly.

"Did you win the battle?" begged the dwarf.

"We are standing here, are we not?"said Peter with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I would most definitely concur," said Edmund with a hearty laugh. "I do feel quite alive!"

The two young men burst into laughter at the perplexed expression of the mystified dwarf. Trumpkin shrugged his shoulders and decided to walk up and talk to the girls; he assumed that they wouldn't be nearly as nerve-wrecking or confusing.

Edmund waited until the dwarf was far out of earshot. "Do you think we have convinced him we are royals, yet?" whispered Edmund conspiratorially to Peter.

"It is more likely we have unconvinced him."

The two young kings laughed uproariously, unconcerned about the reaction of the stunned dwarf.

* * *

Shawn had chased the servant almost all over the courtyard and now he was tired. Rounding the last wall, Shawn looked around desperately. The servant had disappeared and he couldn't see hide nor hair of him. He walked slowly into the center of the area he had been led into. Unlike most of the land in the castle, this part was grassy and smooth. It was still cold, but the wind didn't bite nearly as badly as before. Shawn breathed evenly; something was wrong here, but for some odd reason he couldn't place it. He was about to turn around and continue his walk when he saw a flash come from above his head. His eyes followed it to the source: a torch atop the battlements. More flashes came from up there; Shawn knew for a fact that he wasn't alone now.

Movement on his level allowed him to realize that his assessment was correct**.** Two figures robed in dark clothes approached him from the shadows. Shawn placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, muscles, ready to spring, although he betrayed no anxiety. One figure gestured to him in an attempt to placate the bounty hunter; it was unsuccessful. The man sighed and stepped into the light as he removed the dark hood from his face. Shawn released his hilt and looked shocked at the person before him –Lord Remian.

"What are you doing here?" Shawn asked harshly.

Remian huffed loudly before speaking to the figure at his side. "It appears that no matter what you do to dress up a peasant, they never seem to respect the nobility."

Shawn growled under his breath, resisting the urge to draw his blade and subconsciously separate Remian's head from the rest of his body. "Like I said," he began, ignoring the arrogant lord in front of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I suppose without any intelligence you don't realize that it was I that sent for you" Remian said condescendingly.

With some difficulty, Shawn ignored the harsh barbs from the lord. "So what do you want?" he asked, teeth clenched.

Remian began to circle the young bounty hunter. "When you first arrived here, you dealt me an embarrassing blow. It would be one thing if no one had been present, but in the presence of the Lord Protector…it was unacceptable. So I have called you here to regain my honor and to send you to the backwoods you came from. That is where you belong, and that is where you shall stay, peasant**!**" Here Remian scoffed. "I don't even understand why Lord Miraz called for you to find his nephew. I am far more capable of tracking him and returning him home."

Shawn bit back his rage and retorted snidely**.** "You have a valid point, _milord._" He looked around the courtyard and gestured to all of the soldiers he could now see in the glimmering torchlight. "I mean, what is it like to be in charge of all of these capable soldiers, only to be passed up on arguably the most important job in Telemarine history –finding Prince Caspian – by a seventeen year old boy?"

It was too dark for anyone else to see, but Lord Remian's step became uneasy and his eyes flashed in anger. He was a Lord of the House of Telmar; he couldn't allow this _boy _–bounty hunter though he may be –to insult him.

Shawn had spoken loud enough for the soldiers all around the courtyard to hear his barbarous words. Remian knew he had already made a mistake with the boy in the chambers; he couldn't let him get away with insulting and disgracing him before his men**. **An implacable vindictiveness was hidden beneath his cool sneer. As casually as he could manage, he drew his sword. "We'll see if you are so deserving of the pedestal Lord Miraz has put you on, bounty hunter."

All the soldiers in the area now turned to face Shawn. He quickly went over his options in his head._ If I just walk away, I won't embarrass him and I can leave here quickly on a peaceful note. As much as I want to put this arrogant man in his place, now isn't the time. _Shawn settled his hand on the hilt of his sword and waved his hand at Remian.

"I don't need to prove myself to you. Now, if you'll excuse me Milord, I have other business to attend to."

The courtyard rang with the mutterings of the soldiers; how could this boy reject Lord Remian's challenge and then dare to walk away? It put Remian on the spot; he needed to do something to save face.

Reddening in anger at the sleight,Remian raced towards Shawn and let out a fierce cry, his blade floating overhead to cut down the boisterous bounty hunter. As if he was expecting it, Shawn shifted his head down and rolled to the right, drawing his blade in one fluid motion. There were no more words to be said and Shawn knew it. The only thing left was to fight now; fight to get out, fight to stay alive. Shawn brought his sword up to deflect another of Remian's vicious blows and jumped back to collect himself before pushing on. Remian kept Shawn off of his rhythm, almost as if he knew exactly where Shawn would move before he moved. Shawn would jump back and Remian was lunging forward, giving Shawn only enough time to parry a blow. Shawn decided to pull back as much as possible in order to find a way into Remian's defenses.

* * *

Metallic clangs echoed all over the courtyard and into the castle walls. The sound reverberated along the walls, magnifying the noise. That very sound rattled in Miraz's dreams and woke him from his peaceful sleep. Angrily, he called for a servant to find out what all the racket was, but he was out of luck. When the servant reported that he did not know, Miraz quickly shrugged on a robe and made his way out to his balcony. Maybe a soldier down there knew what was happening. When he looked out into the courtyard, the sight before his eyes astounded him. He saw two swordsmen moving with near perfect accuracy and a speed unmatched by anyone, even himself. He knew the more vicious of the two fighters had to be Lord Remian, but he had never seen Remian fight so hard. And he was hard-pressed to find out who the second, more methodical fighter was. Who was this other man that was equal in ability to Lord Remian? The nobleman was considered to be one of the finest in the land with a sword. Miraz's eyes widened with amazement.

Shawn fought furiously, now having found his ace against Remian. Remian fought viciously and didn't keep track of what he did. His blade work called for long sweeping strikes which often left him vulnerable on his left side. Shawn played to Remian's left, darting in and tagging Remian with the flat of his sword and dancing back out of reach. He kept this up for a moment, at least until Remian caught on.

* * *

As Shawn fought his dreams mixed with reality and the two seemed almost fused like they were one. As his dreams flashed before him, it was being relived in his swordfight with Remian. The similarity of the two events was striking, and they moved in parallel.

_The older boy –the one with the blurred shield –would continue to fight mercilessly until he was sufficiently cut down and decimated, leaving the two girls to fend for themselves. Until this point, the older of the two girls would hang back and fire off an arrow or two, but now her lips moved; Shawn could not read them._ Remian's blows finally began to wear on Shawn and he found himself backed against the wall._ The younger girl dropped something shiny as she turned away to follow the Narnians that ran._

Swipe after swipe battered Shawn's defense until he dropped his sword._ That left the older girl alone. Her pale blue eyes shone out among the smoke and the light from the flames and found Shawn. Gray eyes stared at blue until Shawn felt a pain in his shoulder. He grabbed at the pain, a red fletched arrow stuck out from him._

Shawn gasped in pain. Remian had drawn his blade down the bounty hunter's arm._ Looking back, he saw the girl's bow drawn and pointed at him before she disappeared into the swelling mob of Telemarines. Shawn began to fall then, and the captain's crazed shadow appeared again, blade drawn overhead. _

Shawn slid down against the wall, arm burning in pain. _As it descended towards Shawn's neck, an earth-shaking roar rattled the Telemarines, the captain and Shawn and he would only wake up then, drenched in sweat and gasping for air._

Almost simultaneously, Remian stood high overhead, his blade clenched in hand and ready to plunge it into Shawn's heart...


	6. Caught in the Crossfire

**A/N: I am SO sorry! I had been caught up in finals and work and now I've got a push to finish an old story for a scholarship. Special thanks goes to co-author AnnCann, who stuck with me throughout all of this and was patience and quite helpful. Also, keep an eye out. After this goes up, I have a one-shot coming through. It will be a standalone piece, but it is a part of the Protector as well. Take note, the one-shot will contain indirect allusions to people and events that have not occurred in the Protector of Narnia. **

* * *

Chapter 6: Caught in the Crossfire

It was quiet. It had been silent for hours, now and it was starting to get to Lucy. When they started the journey, they had been following the river in the Telemarine boat they had commandeered. Lucy and her sister watched in earnest as Peter and Edmund kept up their little 'plan', trying to convince Trumpkin of their royalty. Personally, Lucy felt that Trumpkin had dealt with far too much as it is, having been hunted for and then suckered into being systematically destroyed by her brother in a duel. She wanted to tell her brothers to quit teasing him but she decided against it, knowing that they were having too much fun and weren't going to stop now just because she asked them. Rather; they seemed to be enjoying it, Peter had been so wound up before they had arrived in Narnia so she felt that a little harmless teasing was allowed him and his brother. Instead of interrupting them, she decided that she'd lean against the sturdy wood of the stolen boat and rest for awhile in hopes that she could be of some use to them when it was necessary. Lucy was certain it would be.

"I am glad to see that you approve of our Golden Age battle strategies, Trumpkin," said Peter with a hint of amusement.

"What battle strategies?" the stunned dwarf bit out dryly. "You have described a series of misadventures and failures, and it doesn't sound like your 'alleged' prior battles are examples of a proper battle at all. In fact, Your Highness, if I didn't know any better, I would think you are toying with me."

Peter and Edmund burst into hearty laughter and leaned back in the boat grinning.

This merely confirmed the dwarf's worse fears. He rolled his cloudy eyes at the Pevensie boys. "You are a pair of malignant, irritating Sons of Adam."

"We are working very hard here to convince you of our royalty," said Peter with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

"Hmmph," Trumpkin growled, crossing his arms and looking very put out.

Lucy couldn't bear any longer to see the dwarf so misinformed by her troublesome brothers and she sought to right things. "Really Peter! Edmund, how could you!"

The two boys merely laughed harder and Lucy gave Trumpkin a sympathetic smile, watching a grin creep across his scruffy face. "So you are the ancient monarchs," he admitted.

"That is what we have been trying to tell you," Peter told him. "But if we told you properly you would never have believed us."

"So we told you improperly," Edmund quipped.

The two boys smiled smugly. The perceptive dwarf wrung his hands and inquired, "Are all Sons of Adam this annoying?"

"Doubly so," Lucy remarked with a glint in his eyes.

"But not us," laughed Peter.

"Of course not!" Trumpkin intoned. "I would never expect the saviors of Narnia to be annoying..." Trumpkin rolled his eyes.

"Did he just slander my royal person?" asked Edmund.

"I believe he did, Ed," confirmed his brother.

"And I say, you two deserve it," exclaimed Lucy crossing her arms smugly.

Trumpkin had gotten even and the Pevensies girls burst into a series of guffaws. "At last, someone who dares to taunt you back Ed," Susan giggled. "I never thought I would live to see the day..."

"Oh do be quiet, Sue." Edmund said, feigning offense. The two boys held their stern expressions for a few seconds and could not restrain themselves any further. The laughter resumed and Trumpkin joined in on the hilarity.

When the laughter died down, a peaceful silence resumed and Lucy's eyes drifted closed, she felt the boat come to a complete halt and saw Edmund and their new dwarf friend wade out and tie the boat down. She drifted into blissful sleep as Peter wrapped his muscular arms around her and lifted her up so that they could camp for the night.

* * *

Shawn's gray eyes flashed furiously in the firelight around him, spurned by the rattling roar that echoed through his head, resounding in his dreams. As the brash lord's sword begun its descent into the ground, Shawn rolled himself up, placing his feet on the wall behind him. The momentum carried him so that his feet braced him up, narrowly missing being impaled with Remian's weapon. With only a second to spare before he slipped off the wall and lost his advantage of surprise, he pushed off of the wall with his feet, propelling himself forward and launching himself at the immobilized Remian. As Shawn had intended, Remian hadn't been prepared for such a feat and was sent sprawling along the floor, completely separated from his sword that was still piercing the earth where Shawn was laying. Shawn; however, was exceedingly fortunate that during his collision with the radical lord that he hadn't dropped his sword. Quickly as he could, Shawn leaped to his feet and stood over Remian, with his blade pressed precariously against Remian's throat. Shawn's chest heaved as he sucked in air; he exerted more energy fighting Remian than he ever had against any other opponent.

Shawn could hear voices echoing all around him, murmurs about what had just happened but the bounty hunter ignored them all. Personally, he wanted to figure out why this _lord _had such a problem with him. Shawn's wiry muscles twitched underneath his tunic with the urge to lance this brash man to the ground, although he didn't know why.

Before Shawn caved in to his urges, a sharp voice cut through the haze of his voice. "Stop!" Shawn shook his head and looked around, finding every soldier bowed to the knee. His eyes focused again and he noticed that Miraz stood in front of him.

Shawn's eyes continued to blaze as he pressed his blade even closer to throat of his enemy. "Why should I?" Shawn spat, venom dripping from his words. "So _he _can get back up and finish making me a part of the courtyard? I don't think so."

"He wasn't going to kill you," Miraz quickly remarked. At that, Shawn's gray eyes snapped up and locked onto Miraz's calm, black eyes.

"What do you mean?" Shawn said warily.

Miraz paused before speaking. "I sent him to retrieve you. I had heard of your skills from others and I wanted to see for myself. While you were sparring, I watched you from up there." As he spoke, Miraz gestured up to the balcony of his room. "I was quite impressed with your performance."

Shawn looked around momentarily before finally sheathing his sword with an exasperated sigh. Feeling irritated, he ran a harried hand through his hair. "You couldn't have just told me, or asked me? I-, never mind."

"Allow me to apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you," Miraz said as Remian picked himself up from off of the ground, dusting off his dirty cloak and tunic.

Shawn noted the flash in Remian's eyes and knew that there was more to it than Lord Miraz had told him. "With all due respect Lord Miraz, I feel that it would be proper for me to leave tonight so that I can start on my search for your nephew."

Miraz clasped Remian's shoulder as he turned to leave. "Very well then. I will see you when you return." He then whispered something to Remian and then retired to his rooms.

Remian stiffly turned to the bounty hunter before him. The crazed glare in Remian's eyes had dissipated and he quickly collected himself, assuming a demeanor befitting the distinguished visage of a Lord of Telmar. However, a mask of arrogance lay close under his imposing features, and his eyes cast a stony scowl. "You plan to leave now?" Remian asked coolly, his accent clearly ringing in the night air.

Standing within close proximity to Remian, Shawn's gray eyes grew sharp; his gaze pierced the soldiers surrounding the two combatants in a wide circle giving them room – though nothing intimidated the haughty lord before him. "I do."

"My orders are to send an escort with you to lead you to the point where Caspian was last expected to be. Once you arrive, you will need to travel the rest of the way on foot. The Telemarines all have an enormous fear of the woods."

_Not all of them, _Shawn thought bitterly.

* * *

Caspian sat quietly in the camp. He had tried so hard to sleep that night but found that it was as elusive as he was trying to be. So many thoughts ran rampant through his head, he couldn't sleep. Contrary to what he expected, any dealings with the Narnians were the least of his worries at this point. With Reepicheep, Trufflehunter and Glenstorm backing him, the rest of the Narnians chose to follow them and Caspian. Caspian kept his blade sharp, training with Glenstorm and Asterius the Minotaur while the Talking Birds and others delivered more information about the Telemarines' movements. Caspian's problem now consisted of the guilt he held deep inside himself. It was his fault that Trumpkin was gone and although few Narnians brought it up, someone out there blamed him for the loss, most likely the Black Dwarf, Nikabrik. For some reason, that Dwarf refused to take to him but followed the crowd, because the Narnians believed that Caspian was going to lead them to freedom. He sighed aloud, hoping that he didn't wake any of his bunk-mates. He needed to get out, to go somewhere. As quietly as possible, he slid his body from Merimba's, hoping that the Wildcat's tail didn't flick at him and wake Merimba up. Caspian took a last look around before tying his sword –his last Telemarine possession –to his hip before disappearing into the dark trees of the forest.

* * *

Peter startled himself awake, rolling around on the floor a moment, before he knew where he was. His blue eyes settled onto the sleeping forms of his siblings. They had been through a lot the last time they were in Narnia. All joking aside, he couldn't help but shudder at the harsher moments that they had had to deal with. He breathed a long sigh. He kind of felt that he understood why Aslan, had the four of them become kings and queens together. His dreams revealed to him all of the things that could have gone wrong if he had gone to Narnia alone. The latest horrific nightmare dealt with Jadis, the White Witch that they had defeated to take their places as the rulers of Narnia. His usual dreams consisted of Jadis killing him on the hills of Beruna, but this last one…it was far worse than he could have ever imagined. Instead of her killing him, she had done other horrible deeds. And he had joined her…

Peter shook himself, looking up at the brightening sky. Glancing around at his siblings and Trumpkin, he wiped his forehead. Sweat poured from his face and dripped onto his tunic and the grass underneath him. He thought for a moment before remembering a small stream that they had come by the night before. He decided that he would get a drink of water and throw some water on his face before everyone else awakened. He felt his heart hammering in his chest. He needed to collect himself for a moment and then he would be fine. He rolled over, grabbing hold of Rhindon before slipping away in the foliage.

* * *

Shawn heard a rustling in the grass, startling him awake. He rubbed his eyes sleepily before his body simultaneously woke itself. Inwardly, he thanked himself for training his body to react quickly in conjunction with his mind. It was one of the reasons he was still alive, and this survival instinct was now second nature. It served him once again, and he was instantly alert. He peered through the brush into the small clearing in front of him. He couldn't believe his eyes. A blond human boy knelt to the ground, and Shawn knew the boy was drinking from the brook. The comforting bubbling of the water was a serene sound in the forest, lulling the bounty hunter to sleep hidden under the cover of ferns and foliage. Shawn was surprised; blond humans were prevalent in Archenland, but they rarely ever came into Narnia anymore.

Silently, he prided himself for making good time getting away from the Telemarines. However, something didn't sit well with Shawn, regarding the perfidious Lord Remian, and his instincts told him that a lot of space needed to be between them. He noticed the sword in the grass next to the blond young man and observed him keenly in the event that he needed to defend himself. He heard the bushes across the clearing ring and watched a black haired boy approach…

* * *

Caspian glanced behind him. He had been walking all night and had inadvertently wandered off from the How. He shook his head. Glenstorm would be furious when he returned. He heard running water close by and decided on getting a drink before heading back to Aslan's How.

When he breached the clearing, he noticed two humans there as well, and both were armed with weapons. It seemed to him that the one with dark hair had been trying to calm the other boy. They simultaneously looked up and their eyes locked onto Caspian. Instinctively, Caspian looked down at his feet: he had snapped a twig when he stepped on it.

The blond boy pointed at Caspian. "Telemarine!" he cried, ripping his sword from its scabbard before charging Caspian. He had little time to pull his own sword from its sheath before he had to roll away from the boy's blow and trying to parry the blow. The blond warrior reacted quickly and stopped mid-step to put his weight behind his swing and knock Caspian's blade away. Caspian winced in surprise: although the boy appeared young, he fought with a fervor unmatched by anyone Caspian had ever fought. The force behind his blows was extremely strong and harsh, and Caspian didn't know how long he could last against such a powerhouse. He managed to turn the blond warrior's swings aside but noted a blur coming furiously at him. The other boy was coming, and this one had two swords!

* * *

Shawn couldn't take it anymore! He didn't know any of the people fighting, but at the very least it shouldn't be an uneven fight. He grabbed his sword and burst from the brush, drawing his sword and rotating it in the air; he caught both blades on his and propelled them had only landed for half a beat before launching himself into the blond warrior's path, catching his blade with his own hilt before pushing off and vaulting back to gather his bearing. He gave a wordless glance to the Telemarine, and then charged the dual-bladed warrior.

The dark haired boy stepped back, waiting on his adversary to come close enough. Shawn wouldn't let him get the chance. Just as Shawn moved into range of the twin swords, he feinted away, breaking through and tagged the boy from behind. The boy moved just as quickly, swinging just above Shawn's head, clipping three strands of Shawn's hair.

Shawn flurried back, stepping away and collecting himself. The boy had an even grin played out on his face, as if he reveled in fighting. Shawn shifted stances, preparing for the next exchange. If this warrior enjoyed fighting so much, he'd make this a match he'd never forget. The boy swung both blades out, slashing at Shawn's feet. Shawn dodged back, parrying as much as possible before launching himself over the warrior's head. As he landed, the boy swung out, but Shawn's blade spun in-between Shawn and the twin swords, first knocking one, then the other away.

Twirling away with the momentum of his swords, the boy rocketed his sword to the bounty hunter, who put all of his strength into this last parry. He knocked the sword into the grass, stepping to the hilt and floating overhead. When he landed, he smacked the other sword to the ground before his sword drifted closer and closer to the dark haired boy. Just before it connected with his neck, he felt an all too familiar pain in his shoulder and his legs gave way. He glanced at his shoulder; a red-tipped arrow had ripped through it.


	7. Royally Flushed

**A/N: It's been a very long time coming. I got so stuck trying to write the rest of this chapter. And I'm back to writing alone, so there will be a noticeable change to the content. It'll probably drift closer to the first writing, except that I'm older now and supposedly better than I used to be. I hope you enjoy.  
**

* * *

Shawn gasped in shock and pain. Desperate to rejoin the fight before the twin-bladed fighter realized what happened and capitalized, he shifted all of his joints to check for breaks and pain and felt a sharp sting from his shoulder. He brought his arm over to touch his shoulder and instead felt a shaft protruding from his shoulder instead. Grasping the arrow in his hand, he prepared to yank it from his arm, but was stopped by a startling clash of steel and a grunt, followed by a female voice screaming a name Shawn took as Peter. He managed to brace himself on his forearms and force his upper body from the grass. He looked around and saw the blond boy against the ground and the Telemarine he had been fighting standing over him, blade in hand, like Shawn had done not twenty four hours before to Remian. His gaze panned his surroundings and he noticed another dwarf, blade in hand standing by two girls. One had her bow drawn and an arrow notched in it to fire if necessary.

For the moment, no one dared to move again for fear of being attacked again. During this time, Shawn took the time to scan the people surrounding him at the time, namely the boy he'd just fought and the three newcomers. The boy was dark haired, although his hair was shorter than the Telemarine's. He was lanky, but after fighting him Shawn knew that the boy had some coiled strength in his wiry body. He moved on to the two girls, sisters apparently from his observations. The younger had sun-kissed hair and wide eyes. The older was almost a total opposite from the younger: hair dark as midnight, full lips pressed together tensely. Her dress fit her well without exposing anything and yet accentuated her body to the fullest extent. Her sharp blue eyes were piercing, and he knew that the shaft lodged in his shoulder came from her.

The Telemarine stood self-imposed, almost as if there had been no one had been there but him and the boy he fought hard against. He dared to inch his sword closer to his opponent's neck, and Shawn heard the girl tighten her grip on the arrow pinched between her thumb and two fingers, readying to send it flying. "Who are you?" the Telemarine queried. "Why have you come here? Speak before I claim your life as forfeit."

At that the blonde puffed in anger and disbelief. "Who are you to give me orders? You are an invader to this country!" He gestured behind the Telemarine smoothly. "And at any rate, were you to even attempt to take me, my brother and sister would have you dead in an instant." Then the Telemarine looked around himself warily and remembered the two others who fought beside him, one impaled with an arrow and another whose blades were pointed at him meticulously. Another glance saw two girls, one armed with a bow, and a dwarf.

* * *

_ Wait…_ Caspian thought. _The dwarf… _"Trumpkin?" he tried warily.

The dwarf looked cautiously before dropping his guard and waddling down to Caspian's side. "Caspian… we had hoped that you might make it. How fares the Wildcat? And the loudmouth, Reepicheep?"

"They returned last night. We had been on the move and they had taken great pains to not be followed."

"Trumpkin," the older girl called, lowering her guard but still ready to fire. "Who did you say this was?"

Trumpkin stepped forward, pushing aside Caspian's blade and grabbing the blonde's from the floor. "Queen Susan, Queen Lucy, King Edmund and High King Peter, this is Prince Caspian the Tenth."

Peter looked up in surprise at the Telemarine standing over him as Caspian looked back, mirroring the look on the High King's face. Lucy and Susan stepped down from their perch and met with their brothers by the brook.

Edmund sheathed his swords and helped Peter gain his feet as he continued to stare warily at Caspian. He glanced at his siblings momentarily before they came to a wordless agreement. Peter gulped a little before apologizing. "I'm sorry Caspian. We've been fighting Telemarines since we got here…and I thought you were…"

Caspian shook his head. "I get it," he said quietly.

"We're sorry for attacking you and your friend," Edmund said, interrupting.

Caspian stared at Edmund. "What are you talking about? I've been alone."

"Then who was the guy who I was fighting?" Edmund asked. When Caspian shrugged his shoulders, the group walked slowly to where the stranger had fallen.

The boy's black-and-white hair was messy, draping in his eyes. His chest heaved as he tried to gasp in air. When he looked up to see the group standing over him, he grasped at his sword, only to have Edmund reach down and take his weapon. He managed to gurgle out a 'no' before wincing in pain.

"Should we use the cordial?" Lucy asked, already reaching for the diamond-shaped vial at her hip.

Peter held up his hand. "Not yet. Edmund, what do you think?"

Edmund appeared to be studying the boy's sword. "He's a strong fighter, a formidable opponent. We need to help clean his wounds and what not, but since we can't bind him yet, this is our best bet to make sure he doesn't attack us or run off and tell people about us."

Susan bent down in the grass and studied where she'd placed her arrow in his body. "I shot him in the muscle under the collar bone. He won't die, but we need to make sure he isn't infected. Take him to the brook so we can wash out his wound." Caspian and Peter grabbed a hold of the boy, gently carrying him in their rough hands to the water.

"Your sister is an amazing shot," Caspian managed to whisper to Edmund and Peter as they walked to the brook.

"Well, she was head over the archers back in our first reign," Peter chuckled.

When they got him to the water, the boys rested, disarming and watching while Lucy and Susan took care of their hostage. Susan borrowed Lucy's dagger, cutting the cloth away from the arrow. The boy looked to be losing consciousness, which she felt was good while they were working on him. She brushed the hair away from his face gently. "Hey, you'll be okay," she whispered to him. He could only mumble as his eyes began to roll back. "I'll take good care of you. Then you can tell your story," she talked him to sleep as Lucy, having smaller hands and just being overall a better healer, grabbed hold of the arrow and slowly worked it out of his shoulder. Susan followed up with a wet cloth she had ripped from the folds of her dress, wiping up the blood and cleaning the wound before wrapping it tightly.

* * *

While she worked in silence, Trumpkin stood alone. That boy…he seemed familiar. Too familiar. He couldn't be sure though. It didn't matter. He'd find out soon. They'd take him to the How and question him when they got there.

Hearing a rumble from the brush, Trumpkin grabbed his own bow and notched an arrow. "Name yourself," he warned, which drew the attention of the humans at the brook.

A deep voice came from the bushes. "Have pause, my friend. We are of the true Narnia, the Free Narnia." A centaur stepped from the forest to stand before them, preceding a Wildcat. "Very good, Merimba. You tracked Caspian very quickly."

Merimba purred softly as he headed to Caspian to greet his new friend. Meanwhile, Peter and Edmund met up with Trumpkin in front of the imposing centaur. "Glenstorm, allow me to make introductions," Trumpkin said, putting his bow to rest. "Meet Peter and Edmund, Kings of Narnia."


	8. Interrogations

Shawn woke to utter and complete darkness. He wracked his brain in an effort to remember what had happened before he ended up here…wherever here was. Instead of a memory, he uncovered a sharp pain flashing through his skull instead, causing him to hiss in agony. He stopped moving for a minute, trying weakly to think of something solid. With the pain streaming through his head, he couldn't think of anything, much less what had happened or what he was going to do to get out of this. Resigned to that, he flexed his muscles, trying to at least stand up. His shoulder screamed as he moved and he fell back, bound by his arms and his legs. _What's going on here?_ He wondered. _What happened to me?_ He prepared to call out to see if anyone was there to help him, but nothing came out but pathetic rasps, his throat parched with thirst. Shawn decided that, in light of the circumstances, he would relax in order to regain his strength.

As he willed his body to stop fighting, he heard noises from beyond the darkness. At that moment, he realized that he was blind-folded, feeling the dry cloth scrape against his closed eyelids. Shawn thought hard again and amidst the pain storming his head, he remembered fighting…_I was shot!_ his mind screeched out, melding with the resonating headache. He began to thrash around in an effort to escape and managed to only shake himself loose from whatever held him upright and rolling onto his side in the dust with a soft thud. He held his breath, trying to slow the throb of his shoulder that rang in his ears as he waited, trying to listen to the sounds he'd heard. He huffed in irritation when he could no longer hear anything. He gasped in surprise when the blindfold was ripped from his face.

* * *

Susan let go of a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She looked around the fire at her siblings. She stared at Lucy, who'd been brave to try and stick it out for the entirety of their talks with Caspian and his generals. Lucy tried to hold back a yawn that overpowered the small girl and she curled up at Peter's side, proving her name by fighting valiantly to stay awake. Peter noticed the change of pressure on his arm and gently pulled Lucy in to rest her head on her chest, kissing her forehead lightly while Caspian went over the plans his generals had come up with while the Pevensies traveled to meet the rebel army.

She looked at her younger brother, sitting between her and Caspian, back erect against the wall behind him. For a moment he had stared into the fire mesmerizingly, as if he was reliving that moment of torture under the White Witch. But just as soon as Susan saw it, it was gone and replaced with a placated expression, internalizing every word Caspian said. Susan knew the Just King was visualizing everything, putting everything in place mentally to see where the weaknesses would fall on the field. Susan suppressed a grin, remembering how Edmund had saved their hides so often with his planning.

With two of her three siblings intently listening, Susan allowed her mind and eye to wander, studying the caves that they were in. This particular cave wasn't known about, the generals had told them, even among the army. It had a low ceiling; barely high enough to accommodate the centaur general that Trumpkin had said was Glenstorm, Caspian's second-in-command.

At that moment, Caspian sent most of the generals away, save for Glenstorm and a few other most trusted, among them Trufflehunter (whom they had been using as a scout) and Nikabrik (head of the Black Dwarves). Susan watched as Glenstorm stood as well, throwing an arm over his shoulder in salute before excusing himself to check on the weapons supply.

When everyone had left and Peter had laid Lucy across his lap to sleep peacefully, the remnant of the meeting stared at each other, wondering who would breach the elephant in the room personified in their bound prisoner. Susan licked her full lips before speaking. "We may as well wake him now. He's been unconscious since the Narnians found us."

"I just want to know who he is," Caspian muttered. "I mean, he can't be Telemarine. He doesn't carry Telemarine weapons and he doesn't fight anything like us." He looked pointedly to the siblings around him. "And added to that, most Telemarines fear the woods. They wouldn't be taking a cat nap in the middle of the forest."

Trufflehunter raised himself onto his hind legs. "Well Sires and Milady," he addressed the contingent of royalty, "It would just be simpler to go and bring him here? When he wakes up, we interrogate him," he finished simply.

"Why must we interrogate him?" Susan asked. "Surely it hasn't come to that!"

"Sis, this is war," Edmund said prudently. "At this rate, we need to do whatever it takes to stay ahead of the Telemarines." When she nodded slowly, he stood up. "Come on," he gestured to Caspian. "We need to haul our captive over here." Peter and Susan watched them walk over and stand over the boy they had found out there. Susan managed to see the cloth they had tied over the boy's eyes drift slowly to the ground before they hauled his limp body to his feet. The boy, supported on both sides by Caspian and Edmund, managed to stagger over from where they laid him beside the fire. Edmund propped him up against the wall he was sitting at, asking Susan to help keep him up.

Meanwhile, Caspian returned with a bucket of cool water. He gently spooned a little into a ladle before pouring its contents on their captive's face to waken him. The boy sputtered, trying to keep the water out of his throat. When he came to, Susan took the ladle, spooning up more water into his mouth, urging him to drink. When the boy sat tight-lipped, she shook her head slowly. "It's okay. We're just going to ask you some questions. Don't be afraid." Even as she told him that, she looked into his grey, piercing eyes. He looked at his surroundings calmly, not even remotely afraid of what had happened. When his eyes met hers, his head tilted for a moment, as if he were lost in thought. The moment passed all too quickly; so quickly Susan wasn't sure it had happened. That short gaze burned her deeply. She felt her heartbeat skyrocket; her skin was feverish.

She gulped hard. She took a sip of the water in the ladle, then realized what that meant. "See?" she said to him. She drew more water and drank, feeling her skin finally cool off. "The water's fine." She held it out to him one more time, at which he finally opened his mouth and let her pour the water down his throat. He choked a little, but forced what he could down his throat as the rest spilled down his chin and onto his bare chest.

Edmund cleared his throat to get the stranger's attention, and Susan braced the boy against her shoulder to keep him upright. Edmund bent low to stare at their captive. "Who are you?"

* * *

Shawn looked at the people all around him. He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared when he got shot. He wasn't scared when the guys dragged him from where he was. He was a bounty hunter! He couldn't afford to be scared. Fear made his job harder. He pressed himself against the wall. He had to clear his mind if he was going to make it out with his life. He sat tight-lipped, only sputtering when one of the boys who'd brought him over poured water onto his face. When the girl offered him water, he was wary. He'd spent enough time with Archenland's royalty and an apothecary teacher to know that there could be something in the water. He eyed everyone around him before looking at her. His gaze widened; she was beautiful. In a matter of seconds, he'd noticed her full lips, her soft blue eyes, her long black hair, everything he needed to. When she drank the water and spoke to him, he almost couldn't speak. Her voice was heavenly. Slowly his lips fell apart and she gave him the cold, refreshing drink. He gagged on the water for a moment before it slid down his throat, reviving his voice. At that moment, another boy stood before him. "Who are you?" he said shortly.

Shawn glared up at the boy. He began to sit up, but winced in pain. The girl gently pulled him back to the wall. "You were injured," she told him. "We did the best we could considering the circumstances. We were out in the middle of the woods. How does it feel?"

"It hurts," he rasped to her as he noticed movement behind the boy. Two others came to him, and he finally recognized one of them as the boy he was trying to protect. The two boys sat on their haunches beside the boy in front of him.

"Why'd you attack us?" the blond asked impatiently. His blue eyes pierced through the darkness to Shawn, and he noted that they were the same eyes as the girl at his side.

"You attacked him," he said, nodding at the tan boy he'd gone out of his way to save. _If you get kidnapped when you go out of your way to save people, I'll never do that again…_

"And for defending me, I thank you," the boy spoke up in his thick accent.

Shawn recognized it almost immediately as Telemarine. He took another look at the people around him. _None of these people look or sound Telemarine. And before I passed out…was that a…dwarf? _

The Telemarine addressed him again. "For saving me, I would do something for you. But first you must tell us who you are." Shawn stared at him hard, wondering whether or not to tell them anything.

At that moment a centaur strode in, his head very close to the ceiling. "Prince Caspian, High King Peter, I-," the centaur started before noticing Shawn on the floor. "Shawn! What are you doing here? I thought you were hunting down a bounty."

Shawn gasped in shock. _Prince Caspian? Prince Caspian is right in front of me…and this group…they must be the Narnians that Glenstorm was telling me about joining…_

The black-haired boy glanced back at Shawn, while the Telemarine questioned Glenstorm. "You know this boy?"

Glenstorm nodded proudly. "He was once my student. I taught him most of the stuff he knows now." The centaur's eyes grew dark. "I had to send him away when his parents were murdered here. He told me he was here on a bounty."

All eyes turned back to Shawn, who looked around as two small shapes meandered through the small crowd to him. At first glance, Shawn just saw a dwarf and a badger, but he looked a little harder at the badger. The badger stuck his nose into Shawn's face, sniffing him. "Trufflehunter?" Shawn queried.

The badger refocused on him. "Yes…it's me. Shawn." The badger smiled a toothy grin as he looked to the dwarf. "Trumpkin," he called. "It's him! He's back!"

Trumpkin waddled over to him, taking Shawn's face in his pudgy hands, studying the boy's face. It had been years since he'd last seen Shawn. But those eyes…his hair. He was the same boy, just grown up. Trumpkin pulled the boy close, hugging his head tightly. "I've missed you, boy."

"I've missed you too, Trumpkin," Shawn mumbled into his shirt. Trumpkin squeezed tighter. "Umm, Trumpkin? You're suffocating me," Shawn wheezed.

Trumpkin let go, thumping the boy on the back good-naturedly. He pulled his dagger and slit the ropes from Shawn's and ankles. Shawn smiled thankfully, rubbing his wrists and ankles to get the feeling back in them. The girl next to Shawn gave him the bucket of water to soothe his appendages. Shawn nodded his thanks to the girl.

Glenstorm called attention back to himself. His hind feet stamped out of habit as he spoke. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I have a question: What were you doing out there alone?"


	9. Secret Places

"So," Glenstorm began again, "Why are you here? I thought you had a bounty to go find and collect on." After the centaur spoke, everyone who was present stared at Shawn in question.

For only a brief moment, Shawn felt a feverish pitch ghost over his face, but as soon as it appeared, he beat it down mentally, commanding and demanding control over his emotions. Shawn looked up at his former mentor, his gray eyes flashing in the firelight. "As soon as I got there, one of the couriers met me and told me they had already found my mark before I had even arrived. They had him in custody, so I went on my way." Then he nodded over to where Peter and Edmund were sitting. "Then I saw these two attacking that one over there. It was an unfair fight: I merely stepped in to even the odds."

The monarchs of Narnia all gave each other pointed looks from around the fire, as if to ask the one question they didn't want to ask out loud: _Can we really trust this kid? _As one, everyone at the fire looked up at Glenstorm, knowing that he was the only one who knew if Shawn was trustworthy.

The centaur stamped his hind hooves against the stone under his feet in agitation, trying to decide what to do. He knew for a fact that he could trust the boy. They would have no problem in letting him go. What stopped him from answering was the idea that he could just maybe convince the bounty hunter to stick around, that he'd fight for his homeland like his forefathers before him. Glenstorm just had to think of something that would draw his old friend back to the fold of Narnia.

Caspian's voice broke through the silence. "I don't know about the rest of you, but Shawn risked his own life to protect me, a complete stranger." He turned to the wounded bounty hunter. "I owe you my life," he murmured softly. "If you wished, you could stay here, rejoin your old family. The army of Aslan could use another warrior such as you."

"Caspian, I hardly think you are qualified to make decisions like that," Peter countered warily. "At least not by yourself."

"But he has a point, Peter," Edmund spoke up. "He's a strong fighter. Stronger than many of the warriors that I've fought in my whole life."

Shawn turned his gaze onto the Just King. "What do you mean, 'your whole life'? You look like you're only fourteen."

Edmund cleared his throat, clearly a little annoyed. "I AM fourteen," he said sharply. "I'm also King Edmund the Just, Duke of Lantern Waste and Count of the Western March."

Shawn stared at the boy in disbelief. He couldn't wrap his mind around that being true. He knew his history. All the Kings and Queens from the Golden Age of Narnia disappeared suddenly, and they were all about full grown adults, except maybe Queen Lucy, who would've still been about eighteen or nineteen when she left. "I'm sorry; I don't think I can believe that. Not from someone younger than me."

"Shawn," Trumpkin spoke softly, "I didn't believe it either at first. I openly challenged him. And the way he handled that blade, he could've skewered me alive. He fights like a King of old Narnia."

Shawn glanced at Trumpkin before staring back at Edmund, a challenge evident in his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I'm a bit hardheaded. I'll need more…persuasion to believe that he's Edmund the Just."

"What, was one beating not enough for you?" Edmund asked with a chuckle.

The bounty hunter let out a little growl as he forced himself to his feet, biting back the grimace of pain he felt in trying to get up. "That's not a fair call." He nodded his head toward the girl next to him. "She shot me in the shoulder."

"I could beat you without Susan interfering," the Just King bit back, stepping closer to the bounty hunter.

Shawn scoffed. "I hardly believe that."

Edmund allowed his hand to rest on his sheathed weapon. "Would you like to try your luck?" he challenged.

At that, Caspian and Susan stood, forcing the two back from each other gently. "King Edmund," Caspian started. "We have some other business to attend to before you can try and indulge yourself."

"Besides," Susan added, staring up at Shawn. "You're injured. You're in no condition to be sparring, much less with a King of Narnia." She softly placed a hand where her shaft struck the boy in front of her and smirked when, despite himself, he winced at the pain. "You need to take care of this before you even think of fighting."

The bounty hunter stared down at her, immediately ready to shrug her off and finish what King Edmund had started, but stopped himself. He found himself looking into her eyes and backing down. Shawn sighed softly before gently palming her own hand against his wound. "As you wish, milady." Stiffly, he began to walk past the Kings of Narnia, into the tunnels leading out of the chambers.

Peter shook his head before taking his seat once again, indicating that his siblings and Caspian should do the same.

Edmund was the first to speak. "I don't think I like the idea of him just walking around like that. I don't exactly trust him yet."

Peter nodded in agreement. "I agree brother. Reepicheep," the High King called out. The skittering sound of mice feet echoed in the chamber until the Talking Mouse stood in front of the fire, sword drawn in salute to the Kings and Queens of Narnia.

"Reepicheep, go and find the Wildcat you returned to camp with. Track the bounty hunter we brought in, and keep an eye on him," the High King commanded.

The Mouse managed a sideways glance at Caspian, who nodded slowly at him to comply with Peter's command. "As you wish, sire," Reepicheep intoned grandly, sheathing his sword and scurrying off in one swift movement.

"Now, with that settled…" Peter muttered softly to himself. He looked over the people who were left in the Chamber of the Stone Table. Most of the generals of the army were present, but he knew that they needed to have all of the generals present, namely Asterius the Minotaur, Nikabrik the Black Dwarf and Blaztorn the Satyr. "Caspian," Peter called. When Caspian stood in front of the High King, Peter addressed him. "Go and fetch the rest of the generals so we can commence with the war council."

Caspian stared at Peter, almost in shock. "Peter, I feel that someone else could go and retrieve the generals. It seems that you, me and your siblings should talk before the generals even get here."

The High King merely waved him off, which earned him slightly surprised gazes from the Just King and the Gentle Queen, who had never seen Peter act this way. "As it is Caspian, there will always be time for us to talk. We need to start a plan of action and, above all, we must decide what to do about our prisoner."

Caspian huffed silently, clearly miffed at the way Peter was treating him before he followed orders and set off to gather the war council.

* * *

After leaving the presence of the people in the Chamber of the Stone Table, Shawn relaxed, barely suppressing a groan at the shock of pain that racked his body. He stretched his arm gently, testing his shoulder. Unwrapping his shoulder gently, he stared at the wound in the dark torchlight of Aslan's How; the arrow had gone in deep but clean, which had made it easy to remove, although he suspected that the arrow hadn't been taken out as carefully as it could have been. It had been bandaged crudely, which made sense to him since they likely had done the work before moving him to the How. The bounty hunter made a mental note to abscond with a wineskin and some fresh bandages so he could do a follow-up on the job the humans had done for him.

That solved just one of his problems. The other was the object of Prince Caspian. He had been hunting him but never did he imagine finding him so soon, having only been searching for a couple of days. Not only had he found Caspian, but he'd been dropped right into the Prince's hideout. He essentially had everything he could have ever needed to capture Caspian and be on his merry little way. There was just something that stopped him from acting right away, and he assumed it had something to do with the company that Caspian was keeping.

All the pieces had fallen together for Shawn. Now he realized why Glenstorm had been so adamant, so desperate that the bounty hunter join the Narnian rebels. Everything else had already fallen in place. Caspian had shown up, ready to lead the Narnians against the Telemarines and take back what rightfully belonged to them. The old centaur merely wanted Shawn to come home, to defend the new King like his ancestors had centuries before. But he didn't know what to do. He was supposed to deliver Caspian into the hands of his uncle. This matter over Narnia could hardly be considered his business: he had left the land a long time ago and any sense of patriotism with it. On the other hand, he hadn't heard the whole story, the reason why Caspian was gone in the first place. And if Trumpkin was right, those four were the Pevensies, the great monarchs of Narnia. If they were here and the stories were true, they only fought for righteous causes. And to top it all off, there was a modicum of revenge he could carry out if he decided to join the Narnians. Since he was a boy, he wanted blood for the lost lives of his parents; finding the captain that took his parents from him could be easier if there was a friendly person on top after this was all over. After all these years, he could finally have his revenge…

Lost in his thoughts, Shawn managed to wander out of the twisting, dusty tunnels of Aslan's How. Inwardly, he was grateful for his father and Glenstorm bringing him here so many times that walking out had apparently become second nature to him. At the mouth of Aslan's How, he noticed Minotaurs and Talking Animals and Satyrs bustling about in the main chamber. He grinned softly to himself and allowed himself to melt into the crowd of Narnians in spite of being the only human present. Presently, he snuck a goatskin filled to the brim with wine off of a crate and a roll of bandages from a table next to a chatty Centaur and slipped out of the main entrance without notice. He looked around himself, looking for just the right landmark before he started walking off in search of an area he had hoped remained undiscovered by anyone outside of his family. And since he was the only one left, he assumed that it hadn't been disturbed since the last time he'd been there.

He strode past the Narnians that were outside, practicing with their swordplay and archery, and was summarily ignored by the majority, who were immersed in their work. That was just as well for Shawn; he wanted to be alone for a few minutes while he patched himself up. But as he walked, he started to notice that something seemed…off. He couldn't quite place it, but he didn't feel quite as alone as he thought he was. Without a second glance, he gradually changed his direction, moving away from the secret spot and into the forest.

* * *

"Merimba, you move far too slow for my taste!" Reepicheep hissed into the Wildcat's ear as they tracked the boy out of Aslan's How. "If we don't catch up, we'll lose him!"

The Wildcat snorted in derision. "Well, if I'm moving too slowly, Mouse, then let me ride on your back and let's see how quickly we can catch up with him!" he growled at the Knight of Narnia.

"Well there is no need to get snippy with me," Reepicheep admonished. Merimba huffed before shaking his flanks, rattling the Talking Mouse on his back. "Now see here-," the Mouse began before he was dumped onto his back, his golden circlet hanging haphazardly on his ear.

"No. You see here," Merimba growled lowly. "I am not a Horse. I am not a dumb animal. You should be grateful that I even let you on my back when it happens. You pull my fur, stab me in the side with that stupid pin you call a sword, and for Aslan's sakes, you NEVER SHUT UP! I don't even know why I put up with you!" With that, Merimba stalked off.

Reepicheep righted himself and fixed his circlet on his head before following after the Wildcat. "It's because we're friends," he spoke softly, walking side-by-side with Merimba. The Wildcat snorted in irritation before nudging the Mouse playfully and resignedly. With a grin, Reepicheep climbed onto his friend's back, strapping his blade to his back and riding relatively silently the entire way.

After coming into the fields that surrounded Aslan's How, Reepicheep gently tugged on Merimba's ear. "Well, I've lost sight of him. Do you know where he went?"

"I'm searching, I'm searching," the Wildcat muttered to himself, looking around the immediate area. "There. Over there, by the forest. I see him!"

"Good job. Now let's follow him!" Merimba took off at a pounce and began to take long strides through the plain, carrying the Talking Mouse on his back. When they managed to reach the forest, Reepicheep dismounted, walking beside Merimba again.

"Where do you think that he went, Reep?" Merimba asked softly.

A voice answered them from above. "He's right up here," and immediately after, a body launched itself from the trees to land in front of the pair of Narnians. "Is there a reason you two are following me?"

Merimba eyed the human curiously. "How did you know we were following you?"

He rolled his shoulder and winced again before speaking. "I'm a bounty hunter. Part of what I do is being aware of people in such a manner that I can tell who is following me and who just happens to share a path with me."

"So…" Reepicheep began, trying to divert the conversation without giving away why they were following him. "Where were you going?"

"Do I really need to explain myself to you two?" he asked.

"Well," Reepicheep replied, "You could ignore the question. But then we'll just follow you. And you have no way of getting rid of us. So it'll just be easier if you just tell us or show us."

The human appeared to think it over for a moment. "Well…if you can be quiet and keep a secret…"

"Then Reepicheep should just leave now then, huh?" Merimba broke in with a snort. When the Talking Mouse glared at him, he waved a paw at his friend. "Oh, come now Reep. You know as well as I do that you aren't well known for keeping quiet."

"I am a sworn Knight of Narnia, Wildcat. I swear upon that title that any secrets between the three of us shall stay between the three of us!" With that, he drew his blade and saluted the human with a flourish of promise from the Golden Age of Narnia, taught to every Knight of Narnia.

"Very well. On the condition that, if no one can find me, you are the only two who search and come to this place, you can come with me." When Reepicheep remounted the Wildcat, the human nodded, taking their eagerness as a yes.

* * *

Shawn didn't know what he was thinking, taking this Mouse and Wildcat to the pool of his ancestors. At this rate, he assumed it almost didn't even matter. He was the only one left anyway: it was his to deal with as he pleased. So he left the forest and headed back along his original way, ducking under branches that had overrun the path. When the path emptied out into a small valley, he smiled a true smile, one that hadn't graced his face in many years.

Shawn looked over the place, just to make sure that the place looked exactly the same. The deep green trees hung low over the pool of water, often reaching into the stream to grab droplets of water from the flood. The water was crystal blue, just as blue as his mother's eyes had been. And the small waterfall was still there, still emptying into this small space as it flowed out of the other end that became a large river further down.

"While you two are here, maybe you can help me," Shawn told his followers as he sat in the grass, putting the wineskin and bandages down beside him.

"What do you need?" Merimba asked, curling up at the boy's feet.

"Help bandaging this wound," he replied, showing them the ugly mark left by the arrow. "Susan got me really good."

Reepicheep stood on Shawn's knee. "I think I'm better suited to help you with that. At least until someone else checks it out." The Talking Mouse watched Shawn bite down on the top that held the goatskin closed and yanked, pulling the top off before he poured the wine into his wound. His shoulder stung and screamed in pain and it took a lot for Shawn to merely bite his lip and not make a sound in reaction to the pain. "Maybe you should let Queen Lucy look you over sometime soon. She is well known as one of the best healers around, even without that vial of hers," Reepicheep added as he grabbed a handful of the cloth and pressed it into the wound. The suddenness of the pressure caused Shawn to give in and let out a groan of pain. Reepicheep looked back at the bounty hunter, and when Shawn nodded at him, he continued to put pressure on him. Gasping, Shawn picked up another bandage and began to wind it around his arm, Reepicheep helping when he got stuck.

When his arm was finally more carefully bandaged, Shawn sighed in relief. He scooted closer to the water and scratched Merimba's ears gently, causing the Wildcat to purr despite himself. Shawn pulled his boots off and rolled up his pants legs, dangling his feet in the water and laying on his back. "Merimba," he said softly.

"Hmm?" the Wildcat answered lazily.

"What sort of cat are you?" Shawn asked. "I've never quite seen one like you before."

Merimba nodded, placing his head on his paws. "My species is very rare. As it is, my mother was a tigress and my father was a lion. I've been called a half-breed as an insult and a Wildcat in general, but I like to think of myself as a Liger: a hybrid between a lion and a tiger."

"Liger huh?" Shawn said almost to himself, lying down in the grass. "That's interesting. Hey, Reep?"

"Yes?"

"You mind keeping watch for me?" Shawn asked him as his gray eyes began to drift closed. "Just need you to keep watch."

Reepicheep drew his sword and stood next to the dozing bounty hunter, silently agreeing to stand watch.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know...I suck...it's been, what, a year? And in that year, I'm pretty sure I started one, if not two more stories, and have updated all other existing stories except one. Well two...considering that this one hadn't been updated either. But every time I sat down to do this one, I kept getting stuck. I know where I'm going in regards to the story, I know exactly what I want to happen and generally where I want it to happen. The problem comes from the little moments in between, where a certain way something was phrased leaves you in a place where you don't want the story to go. That's what happened here. I'd been stuck trying to work my way around Edmund and Shawn challenging each other but not actually coming to blows just yet, and it took me a year to fix it. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if people stopped reading, but if I can help it, I will keep writing regardless. I just don't know how long it will take me. If you're reading this, still reading this story, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart and I hope I don't disappoint you. **


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